


Iced

by elinorofealdor



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 50,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinorofealdor/pseuds/elinorofealdor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Aurelia Moors is from an old Northern house, still rich & landed, but with little power. The family has had close ties with House Stark for many years. Aurelia was originally intended to wed Robb Stark, but events changed all that. Now she must find her way in this treacherous world. MAJOR SPOILERS/SPECULATION from ASOS onward. Rated M for sex/violence in some chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Entering Robb's tent, Aurelia took a quick glance at the other faces around, then curtseyed before Robb who stood on the other side of a wide oak table.

"Your grace," she said as she sank low. When she stood, Robb nodded, his face unsmiling but his eyes bright as he looked at her.

"You wished to see me?"

"I did," he replied. "The rest of you, leave us."

There was a ripple of uncomfortable murmuring, but they all did as they were bid. As Catelyn passed Aurelia, she cast a glare at her which Aurelia was not used to being on the receiving end of. She'd seen Catelyn cast that look of disdain on a handful of people over the years, but on no one so often as Jon.  
 _What have I done to deserve that look?_ She pondered as the tent emptied.

Maege Mormont was the last out of the tent and she fastened the flaps. Aurelia knew she would stand sentry. Robb had kept her close the past few days, for reasons Aurelia had only guessed at until now.

Aurelia stood tall, her head tilted slightly as Robb gestured her toward the table.

"I'm sorry if your greeting seemed cold, from me or anyone else."

"I thought this was supposed to be a happy occasion," she joked.

Robb cracked a smile, but it was a sad one.

"I know it must be seen as odd for me to be here with you while your wife is elsewhere, especially given the reason for the journey to the Twins," Aurelia continued. "But I belong at your side."

Robb gazed at her for a moment and his smile faded. Aurelia stared back at him, then stumbled back from the table as the realization struck her.

"Where am I to go?" She asked, barely above a whisper, willing the tears away from her eyes as she felt the emotional sting of his gaze.

"Stannis," he replied.

She swallowed hard. "Stannis. What am I to say to him that your mother did not already attempt?"

"When I sent my mother, Stannis had an army at his back. Now he has a tenth of those men. He is gathering strength, but it will be some time before he has enough to attack anyone. Likely he plans for us to continue fighting the Lannisters until one side or the other wins and he can attack the victor."

"You want me to propose an alliance before that happens?"

"Once my uncle is wed, our army will move to retake the North while holding what we have already claimed. Still, Tywin Lannister needs to be hit hard, where it hurts, and sooner rather than later."

Aurelia nodded. "You give Stannis men to take Casterly Rock, help him defeat the Lannisters and take King's Landing, and in the end he leaves the North to rule itself."

"That is my hope," Robb replied.

"And why should I be able to move the stone wall that is Stannis Baratheon where all others have failed, save the lady they call the red witch who never leaves his side?"

"I have sent word that I am sending an envoy, but not who. He will not suspect you to be the one to treat with him, and I have every faith in your ability to persuade him to our cause. The North is your home and like me you have more concern for keeping it intact and seeing the Lannisters fall than to rule the seven kingdoms."

"So you trust me not only to bring the offer to him, but to discuss counter offers?"

"Yes," Robb said emphatically.

Aurelia gazed at him for a moment, seeing the weariness etched on his face. She recalled days not so recent when he smiled more than scowled, and played more than fought.

"As you wish, you grace," she finally replied. She turned to go, but he called her back.

"Aurelia," he said, not commanding, almost pleading. "There's something else."

Turning back to him, she tried to remain amenable to whatever other situation he might slap her with, but had to bite her tongue to keep it in check. Robb gestured for her to come to his side of the table, moving so she could stand beside him.

"You have been more loyal to me than anyone," Robb began. He flexed a hand that rested on the table. "Even my own mother has betrayed me, for family, yes, but it was a serious betrayal nonetheless. Still, it feels sometimes as though you're the only family I have left. And yet you have always been so much more."

"Robb," she whispered.

"I don't yet have an heir," he continued, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "My brothers are dead, one sister missing, one married to a Lannister. Sansa should inherit Winterfell, or what is left of it, but I know, and am constantly reminded by my counsel, that we cannot let the Lannisters have our home."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, direct, firm, and compassionate. "It is our home, Aurelia. Yours as well as mine, and I hope this is the first step in making that right at last."

He pointed to a letter on the table, one scrolled in his best hand. "Read it."

Aurelia looked down, and then took the letter in her hand. As she scanned it, she felt her heart climb into her throat.

_I, Robert of the House Stark, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell, do hereby decree that my brother, Jon Snow, shall henceforth be legitimized and known forevermore as Jon Stark. Unless a child of my blood is born, he shall be my heir to Winterfell. Should I pass before my child is of age, he shall perform the duties of regent and be known as Lord of Winterfell until my child's fifteenth name day._

_Additionally, as King and Lord of Winterfell, I release the Lady Aurelia Moors from her family's pledge of matrimony to myself and pass that pledge to my brother Jon._

_From this day, until the end of time, Jon Stark is a true, legitimate son of my house and shall be accorded all responsibilities, duties, and respects from House Stark and all those who have pledged fealty to it._

Aurelia's hand shook as she set the letter back on the table.

"I'm sending Maege Mormont and one of the Glovers to Howland Reed to hold this letter. Once I have Frey's men, and retake Winterfell, I will have this letter sent with a thousand men to the Night's Watch." He took one of her trembling hands in his, using his other hand to tilt her face up to look at him. "Then Jon will come home. I will place you both in charge of rebuilding Winterfell while I finish off the Lannisters and claim the North, and you two can be together, as you always should have been."

Aurelia's eyes brimmed with tears. "What if I cannot sway Stannis?"

"I hope you will do all you can," Robb said. "But this letter has no bearing on that. My father should have done this long ago, and I should have done it as soon as I pledged myself to one of Walder Frey's daughters and cast you aside to gain a tactical advantage. I have never been good at apologies, as you know, but this is a partial attempt to make right something which has been wrong for many years."

"You are in earnest?"

Robb nodded, and Aurelia threw her arms around him. He lifted her off the ground as he held her tight. "It will take a bit of time, but I swear to you I will make this right."

He set her back down and Aurelia took a small step back from him.

"That's why your mother gave me that look," she said with a small smile. "She knows."

"She does. Her disdain for Jon has been obvious his whole life, and misplaced. He is my brother, and it is time he was treated as such and allowed the life that should always have been his."

"Who else knows?"

"Maege, my wife, the Greatjon, the Blackfish, and you. I would not have told that many, but when I left my great uncle with my wife I thought he needed to know. And when I told the Greatjon that once you returned from my errand he was to protect you, he should know why."

"Protect me?"

"After you treat with Stannis and report back to me, I intend to send you to House Umber for safekeeping until Winterfell is ours again. I will send you with the Greatjon."

"The Greatjon." She raised an eyebrow. "Am I that valuable?"

"You are to marry my brother, my successor," Robb said, the kingly tone entering his voice. "No one aside from my wife is more important that you." He tilted his head down and kissed her on the cheek. "And I will not lose either of you," he whispered in her ear before pulling back and smiling at her.


	2. Chapter 2

Aurelia entered the darkened hall of Dragonstone holding herself strong and fearless. In truth she felt like she was neither, but Robb had sent her here to succeed where all others had failed, his mother included. While she tried not to discredit herself, Aurelia had heard too many stories of the implacable wall that was Stannis Baratheon to feel confident.

Before she left on her journey, Catelyn Stark had spoke to her of Stannis' coldness.

"You will not earn yourself into his graces through flattery, or charm, or beauty," she stated flatly. "Stannis has no cause to desire a union with us, other than it might buy him some more men, but men ultimately loyal to my son will bring him little consolation."

"Then what would you recommend, my lady," Aurelia said, trying to sound pleasant even though every word Catelyn said to her was chilled with contempt. "As you have been in my position, perhaps you have some insight into what may sway Stannis, rather than what will not?"

Catelyn eyed her, as though wondering whether to give her real advice or not. In the end, she sighed and seemed to relent. "Stannis is proud, stubborn, inflexible to the point of breaking. He believes he is the rightful king of Westeros, all of it. He has already seen his brothers die, whether by his hand or no, and I do not believe he is at all above sacrifice, or murder, to gain the throne. What you have to offer from Robb is not much, though it is more than he has now. He will likely bristle at the idea of having anyone offer him terms other than complete fealty, and yet he needs men and support. He knows this, and he will know you do as well. If you wish to appeal to him, I would recommend honesty, transparency, flexible pride, and…"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Get close to his witch," Catelyn almost spat. "Do not trust her, not at all, but if you can sway her to our cause... convince her and you convince Stannis."

"What is it she holds over him?" Aurelia pressed.

"On that I can only speculate, but it must be more than womanly charms. Stannis is not unhandsome and while his wife may not be the warmest of women, she is loyal to him. Yet this red priestess holds him enthralled."

Aurelia eyed her, suspicious. "Lady Catelyn, you do not believe he has been bewitched."

"By magic? No," she shook her head. "Yet it is more than seduction. If you had seen what I saw in Renly's tent, you would be more inclined to think it magic, but of that even I cannot convince myself. She feeds his desire, his need, to claim his rights. She whispers to him what must be done, and what he will not sink to doing, she finds a way to do for him. To enact deeds he would find deplorable, yet offer it all in his name, for his glory. Few men could resist such gifts, even one so righteous as Stannis."

"A mercenary advisor?"

Catelyn smiled. "Something like that, I suppose. Yes. So you cannot trust her in the least."

"But I must try to befriend her, or make her believe I trust her."

"And so gain Stannis' trust."

"Do you think it possible?"

Here Catelyn shrugged and looked away from her. "My son seems to think so, at least that it may be possible with you."

Aurelia got nothing else from Catelyn on the subject. In the morning she started off with three guardsmen and a squire to Dragonstone, with little hope of success but a determination to do all she could. After all, Robb had promised her the most precious gift she could ever have desired and all she need do is try. She owed it to him to try her best.

As Aurelia approached the dais, she studied Stannis. He sat in an old oaken chair with a dragon head carved atop it, seeming as though it would devour any who approached the chair were it alive. Stannis regarded her with cold, steel eyes. To his right stood the red priestess, Melisandre, to his left his Hand, Ser Davos Seaworth. Both Aurelia knew from reputation, and the pictures she had formed in her mind were not so far off from reality. However, she had not believed Melisandre's eyes could truly be red, yet as she neared the edge of the steps leading to the throne, she saw they were. Not an amber or ruddy brown as she had imagined, Melisandre's eyes were near the color of fresh blood, illuminated in the glowing firelight to a red as intense as her dress.

Aurelia Bowed low before Stannis. "Your grace," she said.

"I know why you have come, lady Moors. And you are too late, on many fronts."

Aurelia raised her head and regarded him. "Then why receive me?"

Stannis sighed. "Because however stern or cruel some may think me, I do not want it said I denied guest rights to those who deserve it, nor that I withheld truth, no matter how… unpleasant."

"I do not understand, your grace. I was sent here -"

"To treat with me on behalf of Robb Stark. To offer me men to take on the Lannisters and take the Iron Throne, in exchange for giving the north their autonomy when all is over. That or any other offer is hollow now."

Aurelia stood. "You are mistaken, your grace. Robb Stark-"

"Is dead."

The red priestess's voice rang in the hall, echoing through to Aurelia's soul.

Aurelia shook her head. "No. There has been no battle, no-"

"It is, regrettably for you my lady, true." Ser Davos interjected. "He was slain at the Twins, along with his mother and most of his army. We received word this afternoon, just after your arrival."

Aurelia felt her legs give out and she sank to the cold stone floor.

"I cannot deny that the removal of Robb Stark as a potential foe and usurper for my crown pleases me," Stannis finally spoke. "But the boy had courage, and a decent strategic mind. Walder Frey betrayed all customs of guest rights and hospitality. What he did was unmitigated murder and slaughter under the pretext of uniting his house with one of the most highly regarded in the realm. In my realm."

"Are you saying you will repay this injustice?" Aurelia finally found her voice as tears began streaming down her face. She looked up at Stannis, no longer humble but defiant. "You who would be king of all the realms, will you let petty lords murder guests under their roofs? Will you treat others with such treachery as you served your brother?"

Stannis rose to his feet, but Ser Davos put an arm out to block him. "You grace," he said softly. "The lady is clearly distraught."

Aurelia had shifted her gaze to Melisandre, hardly noticing Stannis and Davos bickering in whispers. The red priestess regarded Aurelia with an air of curiosity.

"Your grace," Melisandre finally spoke. "The young lady has experienced a terrible shock, and loss. While it may be of great benefit to your cause, we cannot ignore that the north has seen the destruction of its oldest and most noble house." She stepped from the dais, walking down the stair toward Aurelia.

"We should give her a few days to mourn, and to contemplate her own future." She turned back to look at Stannis. "The support of the remaining forces in the north is still of concern. Most will not want to align themselves with the Lannisters, nor fight the ironborn on their own. Yet who will sway them to listen to outsiders?"

Again she looked at Aurelia, and Aurelia felt a chill go through her. Yet she had not the strength to object or fight at this moment.

After a brief pause, Stannis spoke. "You and your guardsmen will be our guests for a few days. You may have use of the castle, but not the grounds. We will discuss options after you have had three days to mourn your losses." He waved his hand, and Ser Davos moved down toward Aurelia.

Ser Davos held out his hand, the one with all his fingers, to Aurelia. "My lady," he said, and she took his arm. Retreating from the hall, she cast one look back to Stannis, seeing Melisandre holding his arm and whispering in his ear.

Once outside the hall, Aurelia risked trusting her instincts. "Will Stannis have me killed?"

"No, my lady," Ser Davos replied. "Though you may serve as a prized hostage."

"Prized? For what?"

"Your house is still rich, is it not? And you are the heir."

"The heir to burned lands and a probable ruin by now. Would he ransom me to the north rather than try to sway me to his cause?"

Ser Davos chuckled. "My lady, his grace is not given to the swaying of anyone."

"Yet he can be swayed," she pressed.

Davos halted, and she turned to look at him. "It is best not to try and get between them, my lady. I know this from experience." He moved to her and took her arm again. "You are young, and have much to live for. Do not throw away the possibilities of life playing this game."

"I may be young, Ser Davos, but my last hopes for a good life perished at the Twins. My home has been ravaged as Winterfell has, my life sharing in grief and ruin along with the Starks. Just because I still breathe does not mean I have hope."

"I saw my sons die before my eyes," Davos replied. "My king defeated in battle and in council. Yet I have not given up hope for a better life, a better world."

"What is it that gives you such hope, ser?"

"Faith in those I care most about, my lady, and my loyalty to them. Is there no one left for whom you care?"

They arrived at a room, and Davos stopped, gesturing her inside. "I will see to your meal arrangements and find you a girl to serve. If there is anything else you require, please send word to me and I shall do what I can."

He bowed, and she curtseyed, and then he left her. Once alone, Aurelia closed the door and turned to examine the room. One narrow window looked out to the sea, northwards. Aurelia walked to it without thought and gazed to the sea, then beyond.

"Yes," she murmured. "There is still one left for whom I care."

_He is all that matters now_ , she thought. _He is everything, and I must find him._


	3. Chapter 3

Stannis watched Aurelia wander the castle from the shadows, Melisandre just behind him. When Aurelia turned a corner out of sight, he glanced back at Meslisandre who moved up beside him.

"What use is she now?" He asked. "It has been four days. She should be sent away."

"She is from the north, and beloved by her countrymen - not only loved, but respected."

"I shouldn't need anyone to assist me in claiming rule over those whom I should rule by rights."

"Yet you accept my help and guidance, Your Grace. Beyond my counsel, and your faith in the Lord of Light, you have used other means to-"

"Do not remind me," Stannis clipped. Then he grumbled, which turned into a short sigh. "You think she will encourage the remaining northmen to join me?"

"She will not go to the Lannisters, or the Ironborn. What other choice has she?"

"The same one we do," Davos said as he came up on the other side as Stannis.

Stannis' brows crinkled. "The Wall?"

"Robb Stark's half brother serves there."

"Ned Stark's bastard?" Stannis scoffed.

"They grew up together," Davos added. "She may be more likely to help your cause if we assist the Wall as we were discussing."

"She should want to help his Grace's cause regardless," Melisandre cut in. "However," she added, smoothing a hand down Stannis' arm, "our presence at the Wall is necessary, and if she is willing to help in that cause…"

"Would she not rather stay at the Wall, with Ned Stark's' bastard boy?"

"In place of a king?" Melisandre purred.

Davos rolled his eyes, but spoke more prudently. "She is an intelligent, rich young woman, Your Grace. One who has seen war and destruction, and yet she's survived thus far. The Night's Watch would not approve of her staying there - a threat to their vows and more. However, at your side the relationship is more mutually beneficial."

"You speak of my legitimacy to rule as though it is a business transaction, Ser Davos."

"I speak in practicalities, Your Grace. Robb Stark sent her to treat with you to combine your forces against the Lannisters, to claim your throne though perhaps to leave the north autonomous. We cannot know for certain as she never had the chance to express it. Perhaps you should ask her what she wants, now that such unions are impossible."

"I agree, with Ser Davos," Melisandre nodded. Davos fought to keep himself from gaping. "The young lady has lost much, and yet still has more to lose. She could be an asset in more ways than one, and is known for speaking her mind honestly. It is that honesty which might serve Your Grace well in the coming months."

Stannis contemplated for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. I shall dine with her tonight. Alone."

Melisandre looked ready to object, but then bowed her head.

"As you wish, Your Grace," Davos said. "I shall bring her to you."

* * *

 

The knock on Aurelia's door surprised her almost as much as the messenger earlier relaying that she was to dine with King Stannis. She had been lost in thought and grief while plaiting her hair preparing for the meal.

"Come in," she said, and the door opened.

Ser Davos stood in the doorway. "My lady," he said kindly. "I have come to escort you to dinner."

Aurelia rose from the chair she had pulled near the small table which served as her dining area and vanity.

"Are you joining us, Ser Davos?"

"No, my lady," he said, shaking his head. "King Stannis wishes to discuss matters with you alone."

"Completely alone?" Aurelia pressed.

"The lady Melisandre will not be in attendance either, if that is what you mean. Nor will his wife."

Aurelia nodded thoughtfully as she finished wrapping the last strands of hair in place. "I am at his Grace's service."

Ser Davos eyed her briefly, then held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Aurelia took his arm and let him lead her through the dim corridors of Dragonstone.

"Such a cheerful place," she remarked as they passed down one hallway.

Ser Davos glanced to her, and then smiled, restraining a laugh. "I've seen cheerier."

"I should hope so," Aurelia whispered.

Ser Davos looked at her again and saw a small smile cross her face, brief but genuine. "If you smile at King Stannis like that, my lady, he may become amenable to any terms you present."

Her smile vanished. "I have no terms anymore, ser. I am grateful for his Grace's allowance in giving me a few days to grieve but will be grateful when he gives me leave to depart."

"But where will you go, my lady?"

"North."

"North?"

"It is my home, and it is far away from Lannisters."

"Yet not from danger, nor Freys, nor Boltons, nor the Ironborn."

Aurelia paused before replying. "I know."

Before Ser Davos could enquire further, they reached the dining hall, guarded by two sentries. They opened the door for them and Ser Davos brought her inside. Stannis stood gazing out the small slit of a window, turning when they entered. The glow of the room highlighted the deep red heart woven into his dark grey doublet with its black and gold stag inside it.

His eyes looked over Aurelia twice, cold and impassive before nodding to Ser Davos.

"Your Grace," they both said, bowing and curtseying in turn.

"Thank you, Ser Davos," Stannis said. "You may go."

Ser Davos bowed again and left Aurelia's side, closing the doors as he departed. Aurelia stood, waiting for Stannis to move, but his gaze returned to the window.

"You may sit," he said after a moment.

Aurelia moved to the large dining table, sitting in the chair to the left of the head place. A salad of turnip greens, beets and carrots sat on a plate next to a steaming bowl of sea chowder. She sat in the highback chair with her hands crossed, and waited.

"You may eat," Stannis said after another moment's pause.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but are you not-"

"In a moment," he replied.

Aurelia took her fork and moved it toward the salad, then paused. She set it back down on the table. Stannis turned back to her.

"You think if I wanted you dead I would poison you?"

"In days when the protection of guest rights leads to entire families, and armies, being slaughtered at a wedding, I do not know what to think, Your Grace."

Stannis strode toward the table. "I am not at all like that."

"And I am to trust your word? After what happened to your brother Renly?"

Stannis froze, his normally icy gaze turning into a blaze, but she continued, sounding almost casual.

"Not that such an event could be proved, especially as one of the only two witnesses is now dead."

He sat down, his gaze not softening at all. "I see your days left to grieve have been spent productively. Perhaps they would be moreso if you were moved to other quarters."

Aurelia smiled. "Are you threatening to imprison me? I must have hit closer to the mark than I thought."

"It is treason to accuse your king of murder."

"Is it? I thought it was treason to speak falsehoods before your king."

Stannis continued to glare at her, and Aurelia smiled back, not impetuous nor challenging, just pleasant.

"Do you value your life, lady Moors?" He asked after a moment, finally picking up his fork.

"Do I seem one who does not?"

Stannis sighed. "I already have a wife and the lady Melisandre returning my questions with more questions and vague answers. I had heard you were someone who honestly spoke her mind."

"I just did that and you accused me of treason, Your Grace."

A very slight smile broke through Stannis' cold look before he began studying his plate. "Perhaps then we should speak of matters related to your purpose."

Aurelia laughed again, short and hollow. "You mistake, Your Grace. There is no purpose for me anymore."

"None?" Stannis asked, before taking a bite of salad. "You have no family of consequence, I understand. And while you have some measure of fortune, your lands are not in much better condition than Winterfell, thanks to the Ironborn. The Lannisters, Freys, and Boltons have taken your future from you-"

"If you're trying to provoke a desire for revenge, it does not need stoking. However, I know what little one woman such as myself could actually accomplish."

"Yet you hold influence still, with some."

Aurelia eyed Stannis. "Perhaps."

"What about with the Night's Watch?"

She tried not to look astonished. "Your Grace?"

"It is my understanding that there was, at one time at least, a good deal of communication between Castle Black and Winterfell, as well as your family's home."

Aurelia gave a single nod as she finally took a forkful of salad. She chewed a few bites, crafting a reply. "Lord Commander Mormont and his house have long been connected with mine, as have the Starks. We received occasional letter and ravens from Castle Black from him, and from some of the rangers and stewards, and Maester Aemon. There is nothing untoward in corresponding with men of the Night's Watch."

"And have you corresponded with Ned Stark's bastard son since he joined the Watch?"

Aurelia almost choked, taking a sip of sour wine to cover herself.  
"No, Your Grace."

"May I ask the reason?"

"I was, as Your Grace is aware, engaged to his half brother, and since that arrangement was… dissolved, I have not left a war camp or castle for more than two days."

"You are friends, though?"

"We have been, yes. He has also been in training, and it did not seem prudent to send him news of war engagements while working towards another goal."

"Meaning you did not want to be seen as tempting him away from his vows?"

"Jon Snow is an honourable young man. If he did not leave his post by his own volition at the death of his father, nothing I would say could move him."

"Indeed," Stannis replied, watching her before eating a bit more. "Then tell me what it is you want now."

"Pardon?"

"Clearly, you cannot treat on what you came for, and you cannot go home, so what should I do with you?"

"You mean to say you have not already decided?"

Stannis gave her a look she could not read. "Not yet. I have been advised, but… it would be injudicious to turn away a negotiator who came to request a union without first considering what might still be possible."

"So you are desirous of being a just king, Your Grace?"

"You may ask Ser Davos about my justice."

"I'd prefer to hear it from your mouth. There would be less colouring from others' opinions."

Stannis looked puzzled, and expression which Aurelia thought foreign to him. Her information on him seemed to be of one who held his convictions in such a state as to always be sure of his course. Confusion and puzzlement should not be expressions in the repertoire of such a man.

His expression gave way to another small upturn of his lips before he took a sip from his glass. Setting it down, his impassive look returned. "That is the honesty I have been looking for. So, can we now begin speaking plainly?"

Amelia stabbed a beet before replying, "As you wish, Your Grace."

Stannis straightened in his chair and they both fortified themselves with a few bites before he began.

"I told you before I knew why you had come, but I assume you were granted some power of negotiation regarding your - Robb Stark's - designs."

Aurelia nodded, taking a spoonful of the chowder. It was hot and thick, not particularly delicious but right now she cared little for food other than for sustenance.

"Obviously any notion of the north having autonomy is not up for discussion now, not that it would have been much of a discussion." Aurelia repressed the hollow laugh building within her, but a small cough emerged. "You can be little surprised by this," Stannis continue.

"As you say," Aurelia said, taking another sip of wine.

"Combining of armies for a mutual goal of attacking the Lannisters is now unfeasible as well."

"Indeed."

"Would you have me attack the Freys or the Boltons?" Stannis asked, his tone almost seeming lighter.

"To what end, Your Grace?"

"Reclaiming the north for those capable of keeping it from the Lannisters."

"The Lannisters have too much on their hands to pursue their own allies now, though I don't know why they should, yet. And there's the Ironborn as well."

"It seems the Ironborn are being dealt with, if informants can be believed."

"By whom?"

"Their own arrogance, and Roose Bolton's bastard it would seem."

Aurelia flinched at the mention of Bolton and Stannis eyed her for a moment.

"I told you already you need not feed my desire for revenge, but if you have a notion to take down the Freys and Boltons, I would do what I could to help."

"That is not my goal, presently," Stannis said flatly.

"Let them sort each other out a bit first, hmm?"

Stannis gave a terse nod. "It would appear you are at my disposal regardless, Lady Moors."

"It would seem that way, yes."

"Yet you would not desire to stay with me?"

"That depends on what Your Grace might have me do, or where you might send me."

Stannis looked at her for a long moment, studying with his intense blue eyes. Aurelia did not falter her gaze but began to wonder what about her he was trying to figure out. Finally, he pulled a small rolled parchment from a pocket inside the breast of his doublet and placed it before her.

"My orders, Your Grace?"

"Mine," he said cooly.

Aurelia looked at him, confused, but reached for the parchment nonetheless. She opened it and read. As she did, her face turned ashen, a flood of frantic, terrified thoughts overwhelming her.

"You believe it, then?" Stannis asked after a moment, noting the tremor in Aurelia's hand.

"I -" She caught herself and took a steadying sip of wine. "It is a missive most would likely not believe, but…" She drifted, not sure how much she wanted to reveal.

Stannis gazed at her, his expression one that demanded further explanation, but his cold eyes seemed warmer.

Aurelia took another sip of wine, then continued. "Not long before King Robert came to Winterfell, a deserter was caught from the Watch. Lord Stark executed him, but right up until the blow came the young man insisted he fled not from his duty but from White Walkers, and that people must be warned."

"Ned Stark did not believe him, I suppose."

"No one did at the time, really. When Benjen came for the feast, I spoke to him. The young man had been sent with two other rangers to scout a wildling camp. The one who ran was the only one seen from again, when he was caught on the other side of the Wall. And this letter tells of what befell the next two ranging parties send into the wilds. And in my limited communication with Maester Aemon, he has not been one to waste words on any matter that is frivolous. I heard as well that-" She broke off, once again fearing Stannis would question how she received certain knowledge.

His gaze never faltered, and though the cool look had returned to his eyes, he seemed more invested with every word she spoke. "Continue."

"It's been said that a messenger was sent to King's Landing with a request for more men for the Watch, along with what was claimed to be the hand of a White Walker. However, it appeared to be nothing more than a rotting hand, and the representative was dismissed with only a handful of men from the dungeons and the former head of the City Watch."

Stannis nodded as if this was information he knew as well.

"And on this speculative information, would you journey to find out for yourself if it is true?"

"Are you asking if I would, or if you should?"

The stone face cracked again as Stannis replied, "Both."

"For myself, the Wall is not the safest place, though if there was some good I believed I could do there I would go. I do not know that the men of the Watch would respect me, but if this missive is true, they need all the help that will come to them. For you, a - the king, the realm should be your first priority, even above claiming your throne. The Lannisters have a firm grip on King's Landing, their alliance with the Tyrells gives them strength in the south, and the Freys hold the riverlands for them now. The north is the only parcel they cannot control, and they know it, which is why I imagine they're letting Lord Bolton attempt to do so. Any belief that such control could succeed, especially with winter getting closer every day, is sheer arrogance on Tywin Lannister's part. And though I would not put such arrogance beyond him, he may yet be too pragmatic to risk anyone he cannot afford to lose in trying to retain a hold on the north."

"There we agree," Stannis replied. She waited for him to say more, but he simply waved her to continue.

"You have, it seems, few options available to you, Your Grace, besides a continuation of open war which has yet to yield any favorable result for anyone but the Lannisters. They have men, money, lands, the capital, and a well fortified position that is not only readying for winter, it will be some time before it is affected by it. In the north, it will arrive soon. How soon, no one can say for certain but… This old nurse at Winterfell, Old Nan we called her, she was older than anyone I've known. Older even than Maester Aemon, I believe. She used to tell us stories of the White Walkers as children."

Stannis half-raised an eyebrow. Aurelia marveled for a second how this face which was said to show almost no emotion other than stoicism and righteous annoyance could be moved to other expressions in her presence.

"She told us of grumpkins and fairies and were-beasts as well," Aurelia continued with a dismissive hand motion. "We knew most of her stories were just that. But when it was winter, and she would tell us of the Walkers, the look in her eyes… it wasn't like the other stories. It was like a memory haunting her, something she wanted to forget but couldn't and telling a story like that, mixed in with all the fantastical tales, made her memories bearable, less real."

"So you would have me take my reserves to the Wall based on an old woman's stories?"

"I would have you do nothing, Your Grace. You are not at my disposal. But as king you are charged with the protection of your realm, the safety of its people regardless of their allegiance to you. The Night's Watch has dwindled to a handful of men compared to their ranks of old, and most of those men are not trained for battle of the common sort, much less against… well, if nothing else there are the reports of wildlings gathering in great numbers. Their strength could easily overwhelm Castle Black, even if over half their army splintered. You have a duty to defend the seven kingdoms, up to and including the Wall, and if you cannot do that…"

Aurelia drifted again, catching herself from making a harsh, though possibly true, judgment about Stannis' character.

He glowered at her now, implacable once again. "I am not, nor have I ever been, like those preening schemers in King's Landing," Stannis said icily. "My right is to the throne, my duty to the people the throne exists to protect. I could send a representative with some men to the Wall to investigate, but if there truly is merit to all this, and you are not the first person to counsel me that there may be, it could be too late to hold back the forces of Mance Rayder or any other by the time word reached me again."

Aurelia waited to see if he would speak further, but he simply took a sip of wine and gazed away from her toward the window.

"Does this mean you intend to go to the Wall, Your Grace?"

"I should think it must," he said cooly.

"Then why ask what I think?"

He gave her a sideways glance.

"Oh," Aurelia murmured.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next several days, Aurelia tried to maintain a cool, unaffected demeanor, particularly in Stannis' presence. Though she had revealed little, she thought it was still too much.

Stannis was mostly preoccupied with planning for the journey, but he still dined with Aurelia each night, most nights they were alone. One night, when Stannis' declared his intention to assist the Wall, and leave within the week, was the night after his first dinner with Aurelia. Ser Davos had been there, along with Selyse and Shireen, and Melisandre. Aurelia's interactions with the priestess, though limited, made her see why Catelyn had urged Aurelia to get close to Melisandre. Yet Aurelia could not bring herself to fall in line with the woman's ideas on religion, nor politics, nor her treatment of Stannis. Thoughts of Melisandre having Stannis under some sort of spell vanished and instead Aurelia sensed the woman had learned how to use her charms, body, and faith to turn each of her desires, or the Red God's designs as she might have said, to something related to Stannis' destiny. Aurelia could see how Stannis became wound in her trap.

It didn't help that the red woman's stare latched onto Aurelia from that first night, a mixture of curiosity and a predator sizing up another being to decide if it is ally or prey. Aurelia masked her uneasiness with a cool attitude to Melisandre, neither menacing nor demuring.

Tonight, Aurelia was seated beside Melisandre, both of them on the right side of Stannis. While Stannis and Ser Davos were engaged in conversation, Selyse looked sullen as Shireen went on about some of the histories she was currently studying.

"I have not had the opportunity yet to tell you how glad I am you will be accompanying us to the Wall, my lady," Melisandre said in smooth tones. "Your presence on the journey will give us time to get to know one another. Though you will not be with us for the whole journey."

Aurelia turned to look at her. "What do you mean?" She knew Selyse and Shireen were to stay at Eastwatch until battle was done, but thought herself to be going with the army.

"I have seen it in my fires. You must go before the army, before myself and King Stannis."

"As what? Your envoy?"

She smiled, cold and vague. "Not exactly."

Aurelia glanced to Stannis, still deep in conversation with Ser Davos. "And King Stannis knows this?" She asked of Melisandre.

"Indeed. He will ask your opinion. I suggest you tell him, well, what you will."

Aurelia was about to speak again when Ser Davos stood from the table.

"I am sorry not to accompany you, Your Grace, but if that is your order-"

"It is," Stannis replied.

Davos nodded. "Then I should prepare at once. Your Grace," he bowed. "Ladies," he said, giving a small bow to each woman present, and a small smile for Shireen. He strode out of the hall, and all eyes turned to Stannis except Melisandre's. She took a sip of wine and smiled.

"Your Grace," Selyse began.

"I need him elsewhere," Stannis said before any of them could ask the question. "A king's hand may not always be at the side of the king, but must be available to do the work of one. I cannot be in two places at once." He glanced around at them all. "You're all dismissed."

They rose and curtseyed. Moving toward the door, Stannis called again. "Lady Aurelia, stay for a moment."

Aurelia froze, then turned and nodded, moving back to the table. The last she saw of Melisandre, the woman was closing the door on the two of them and Aurelia's mind filled with questions.

"Your Grace," she said as she went to take her previous seat. Stannis motioned for her to take the seat to his direct left, where Ser Davos had been seated. She moved around him and then sat down.

A long silence passed as Stannis gazed at her, then turned his head to gaze at one of the lit candelabras in the room. Aurelia sat and waited for him to begin, but her nerves were fraying.

"Your Grace," she tried after several minutes.

"I didn't want to send him, but I needed to. You'd think he would understand."

"I'm sure he will, Your Grace."

Stannis finally looked at her. "And Melisandre says we must send you ahead of the army to the Wall. On your own."

Aurelia nodded.

"Why do you think that is?"

"She said she saw it in her fires."

"I know what she said. I want to know what you think."

_Tread carefully_ , Aurelia whispered to herself. "I cannot think what I might do for Your Grace by going ahead. However, it may be of benefit to see - to scout the state of the Wall prior to your arrival."

"I have men who could do that."

"Then perhaps it is because I know the north lands, some of the men who will be at Castle Black, and the lady saw something in her fires that shows I will help turn their families to your cause."

Stannis huffed. "The cause of my legitimacy as the rightful king-"

"Should not come into play, I know, Your Grace. I am only surmising what could be lady Melisandre's reasoning, or interpretation of her visions, if you will."

"Then you have no desire to go before our party?"

"Not unless Your Grace tells me I must."

"And if you must, you do not fear for your safety?"

Aurelia gave a cold smile. "I fear for that every moment. Location makes little difference to me."

Stannis regarded her for a second. "Very well. You will travel with us until Eastwatch, and then you will go ahead, south of the Wall, until you reach Castle Black. Take no unnecessary risks, keep to the roads, but more importantly keep out of sight until you reach Castle Black. We will ensure you have provisions and weapons to get you to the Wall."

"And what am I to do once I reach the Wall, Your Grace?"

Stannis eyed her, as though he expected her to object to the whole scheme. Then, he sighed. "Whatever you find yourself compelled to do, so long as it is not to create dissent for me, or tell of my arrival. If something should befall my army on the journey, I do not the Watch believing they are dependent on our service."

"They already are, Your Grace."

"We shall see," Stannis said coolly. "Lady Melisandre has been vague as to your purpose, and as you seem to have little notion to fight following her whims, you can receive those vagueries as they are presented. Perhaps by the time we reach Eastwatch the lady Melisandre will have divined a more specific purpose, or you will have gained more sense. That is all."

Aurelia nodded and rose, curtseying politely. "Your Grace," she said, leaving him still seated at the table, gazing at the flickering candles.


	5. Chapter 5

Jon moved quietly through the forest, the crisp air causing his breath to precede his steps, but otherwise he tried to be as silent and invisible as Ghost. The direwolf stalked ahead several hundred yards, pausing once in a while to sniff the air or turn back to look at Jon, as though questioning the reason for their journey.

Jon himself somewhat doubted his motives, but now that he was out here in the wilds, trying to find signs of wildling camps, he needed to commit himself to it.

After two days of trekking, he began seeing scattered signs of camps and so doubled his pace, hoping to catch a group unawares and gain some information to take back to the Wall before anyone knew he had been there. If they did discover him, his chances of survival were exceptionally low, and his mission to convince the acting commanders at the Wall of the need to send word again for more help would fail. More than that, he would fail himself. He felt it his duty to make up for his absence, even though it was under orders. And his duty to the Wall was all he had left now, after leaving Ygritte, and now knowing of what befell Robb and his armies. His thoughts drifted to Aurelia, and he banished them quickly. No mention had been made of her among the guests or the casualties at the Twins. Jon could not bring himself to ask about her, only to wonder if there was a chance she survived. Yet if she had, what then?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. As though sensing his unease, Ghost had slowed his pace and now stood about fifty yards away. Jon saw him look back, then ahead to the east. Jon's gaze followed the direwolf's, but he could not see whatever lay out there. He sprinted softly over the damp leaves to Ghost's side.

"What is it, boy?"

Ghost sniffed the air, then panted lightly. Jon scanned the woods as much as he could. Just as the hair started to stand on Ghost's back, Jon noticed several figures in the distance.

"Easy, Ghost," he whispered.

The direwolf snarled, but remained quiet and still. Jon started to move forward, Ghost keeping on his heels. The figures were moving out of the wooded path and into a clearing that jutted downward. Jon began to sprint and Ghost followed. However, JOn only made it about fifty strides before Ghost overtook him, and ran to the left. Jon had been so focused on following the men, he had missed the figure trailing behind them. Ghost did not and as soon as the direwolf leapt for his prey, Jon rushed to stop him.

Ghost had the wildling pinned to the ground, but was not attacking. As Jon reached the small figure pressed under the weight of his wolf, he cursed.

"Seven hells," he muttered, pulling out a length of rope and strap of dark leather. He bent and quickly gagged his victim while Ghost snapped at the wildling's hands. Once Jon had her tied up, he flipped her over.

"Ygritte," he sighed as her eyes blazed at him. Her hair tucked beneath her hood, a few strands loosed and stuck to her face by the damp ground. Jon made to brush them away and she wrestled beneath him.

"Ygritte, please," Jon said softly. She took a deep breath, ready to cry out, and Jon slammed a short punch beneath her jaw. Ygritte's eyes glazed over and she fell unconscious.

Jon hoisted her up and put her over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said quietly as he turned back the way he'd come. "I wish there was another way, but you have to come with me now."

Ghost padded along beside him as Jon released a weary sigh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I started playing with timelines a bit, and some character story lines. If Benioff & Weiss can do it... well, I hope I'm not doing it to the extent they do.

The cold wind snapped at Aurelia's nose and cheeks, but she held herself firm in the tree. The air smelled of men, more than she had seen crossing the path viewable from her perch. It had been three hours waiting for the train of wildlings to pass by, and now that dusk had come to the lands, she'd seen no one for near half an hour. She was finally about to descend, knowing she needed a less conspicuous, yet still guarded and hidden, place to rest for the night. The Wall was only another few hours away but Aurelia would not risk traveling at night. She may be south of the Wall, but she felt wary of more than just wildlings and the remnants of armies. The darkness and cold stirred fears deep within her, fears of beings which had only been stories as a child. Yet if the letter Stannis and all the 'kings' of Westeros received was to be believed, those stories broke free of imagination and came to life. Aurelia still wasn't certain of their existence, but she would not take chances.

She was just warming up her limbs to get out of the tree when she heard voices on the path. A woman's first, raving but unintelligible, and then a man's behind her. Aurelia shrank back. The man's voice became clear a moment later, and Aurelia almost toppled from the branches.

"Ygritte!" Jon called. "If you stop struggling I might be able to help you."

"I don't need help from a crow!" Ygritte called back. "No matter how dark it gets, I can find my way to your bloody castle on the Wall."

"It's not safe and you know it," Jon huffed, catching up to her.

They now stood about fifty feet away from Aurelia's perch. Ygritte's hands were bound behind her. Her hood had fallen and her fiery hair splayed across her shoulders.

"Then let the darkness take me," Ygritte snarled.

Jon stepped toward her and Aurelia felt a lump in her throat. He was more rugged, worn and scratched, his hair wilder and his whole carriage weary. To Aurelia he never looked so strong, nor so lost.

"You don't mean that," Jon replied to Ygritte. "We can't keep going tonight. We'll find a place to stop and make it to Castle Black after first light."

"If you stop us, I'll wait until you're asleep and slit your throat."

"Ygritte, please." Jon didn't plead, but Aurelia heard the pain in his voice.

Aurelia slipped one of her daggers out from her coat, twirling it silently as she eyed the wildling girl. She was about to slip her quiver over her shoulder when an arrow whizzed past Jon's head. He spun, pulling his sword, as Aurelia stuck the dagger in a branch and readied an arrow in her perch.

"It's gonna be crow for dinner," a voice called in the encroaching dark.

"Thenns," Ygritte said with a twinge of fear.

Aurelia gleaned enough already to know that if the wildling girl was afraid, it was of something worth fearing.

Another arrow flew past Jon and stuck in the tree. As Aurelia scanned the darkness beyond the path, a streak of white silently plunged from behind her tree perch, across the path and beyond.

Three men could be heard yelling, one suddenly yelped in pain and then they broke through the trees. One of them lagged behind, Ghost having clamped down on his leg then sped away. The two uninjured men made for Jon. He quickly parried one of them away with his sword, then had to contend with the larger man swinging an axe at his head.

Aurelia took a quick breath, then loosed her arrow, striking Jon's first attacker in the back. Ygritte had backed against the tree and looked up.

"How did-" She began before Aurelia dropped from the tree, dagger in hand, bow and arrows slung over her shoulders.

The man she'd struck in the back lay on the ground, moaning. Aurelia unceremoniously moved to him and jammed her dagger in the side of his neck. Jon was embroiled in fighting the large Thenn with the axe. The third man finally arrived, limping and cursing. Aurelia threw her knife straight into his chest and he collapsed.

The man with the axe was about to swing it down on Jon's head when Ghost leapt for his arm and Jon sprang back, missing the blow. As the Thenn tried to free his arm from the direwolf's jaws, Jon slammed his sword into the man's stomach and upward. Ghost released the dying man and trotted over to Aurelia, sniffing her hand, then nuzzling against her. Aurelia looked down at him and began to scratch his head as Jon pulled out his sword. He looked at the other two bodies, then turned around.

"Thank you," he sighed. "Who-" He paused, noticing Ghost cozied up to this figure.

Jon took a step forward, wary and, somewhere deep inside, hopeful. "Who are you?" He asked in a tone which demanded an answer and yet seemed to fear one.

Aurelia pushed back her hood as she raised her head. "Hello, Jon," she said softly.

Jon froze, eyeing her as though she were a ghost, or a dream.

"Aurelia," he breathed.

She took a step toward him, and it was then they both heard Ygritte yank Aurelia's dagger from the chest of one of the dead with a grunt. She sat with her back to the dead man and seemed about to try something when Aurelia aimed an arrow at her throat.

"Don't," Aurelia warned.

"You won't kill me," she sneered. "A valuable hostage I am. Ain't that right, Jon Snow?"

Jon stood beside Aurelia. "You did shoot me in the leg."

Aurelia dropped her bow slightly, the arrow now directed toward Ygritte's thigh.

Ygritte glared, standing slowly and dropping the dagger. Jon moved around her to pick it up and gave her a nudge away from the body. He retrieved the dagger, then walked back to Aurelia and held it out to her. She lowered her bow, then slung it over her shoulder and replaced the arrow in her quiver. She took the dagger from Jon and slipped it back within her coat.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Aurelia asked.

Jon looked nervously between the women. "Aurelia, this is Ygritte. Ygritte, this is the lady Aurelia Moors."

"A highborn lady?" Ygritte scoffed. "What you doin' all the way up here? You get lost?"

"I could ask the same of you being down here."

Jon glanced to Aurelia who gave him a look which held him in check.

"Come on," he grumbled. "We have to get off the road for the night. There's an abandoned cottage just over the hill."

"You taking this highborn princess with you to meet your brothers?" Ygritte smiled. "What will they think of that?"

Jon said nothing as he gestured to the path. Ygritte snickered, then gave a small, mocking bow to Aurelia. "My lady, after you."

Aurelia said nothing and started down the path, Ghost following on her heels. She fought to remain passive, calm, but she could feel her insides burning.

"How is it your wolf acts like that with her?" Ygritte asked Jon as they plodded along. Aurelia smiled, feeling the tension roll off Jon and the frustration in Ygritte's tone. "Is she a warg?"

"No," Aurelia called back. "Just a very old friend. Or I was."

There was a pause, then Jon answered back. "You are."

"Am I? Good to know."

She didn't want to be cold with him. In truth all she wanted was to pull him to her, forget the world around them, and lose herself in his touch for days… or forever. However, she hadn't known about or anticipated Ygritte. He jealousy mingled with her aggravation over not meeting Jon alone, nor properly at Castle Black as she'd intended. Everything had taken her by surprise and remaining cold and calm was the only way she could keep from bursting into tears. Ghost at her side was a comfort, though. If he remained warm with her, maybe she had not lost Jon entirely.

Once they came upon the cottage, Jon ushered them inside. It had just become fully dark and they had to feel their way around. Luckily, the small hearth was intact and a few logs were stacked beside it. Jon set to work starting the fire while Aurelia kept her eyes fixed on Ygritte. Ygritte plopped down on a bench beside what was likely the dining table and Aurelia leaned against the wall near the door after placing her bow and quiver beside her.

"So you've known Jon Snow a long time, have you?" Ygritte asked casually.

"I have."

"Not as well as I do though, I'd wager."

"Ygritte," Jon cut in. "Don't."

Ygritte grinned. "So she don't know you like I do."

"If getting trussed up and hauled off to the Wall against my will is the price, I'm glad not to have to pay it."

Ygritte's smile faded. Jon turned to the hearth and started to work on creating a flame.

"You know-"

"If the words 'you know nothing' come out directed at her," Jon said without turning, "I will let her stab you."

Aurelia inclined her head, looking to Ygritte. "You were saying."

"It's damn cold in this place," Ygritte grumbled.

Just then, Jon sparked the kindling and the fire started up. "It'll warm up soon."

"The temperature will at least," Aurelia mused.

"Didn't bring any food, did you?" Ygritte asked as she gazed toward the fire.

"Well, I wasn't planning on having to rescue others, so no. I didn't bring rations for the company."

"We didn't need your help," Ygritte countered.

"Mmmhmm."

"We did," Jon said, rising from the fire after giving it a few stokes with a poker. "And thank you, my lady," he added, looking to Aurelia.

"You're welcome," she replied, not making eye contact with him.

"We'll make for the Wall at first light. It should only take us a few hours to get there. We should all get some rest." He looked pointedly at Ygritte who shifted on the bench.

"And how am I supposed to do that when you have me trussed up like this?"

"You've had worse," Jon remarked.

Ygritte opened her mouth to speak, but something in Jon's look silenced her. She slid off the bench and moved to a corner near the hearth, grumbling unintelligibly. Slinking down, she seemed to find a degree of comfort and soon drifted to sleep.

Jon, meanwhile, moved to the bench she had sat on and took off his heavy cloak and coat. He sat down near the edge to feel the fire, but faced Aurelia. Aurelia watched Ygritte until the wildling girl fell asleep. It was an odd scene: Jon watching Aurelia, Aurelia watching Ygritte, Ghost laying between them on the floor, and Ygritte fading into uneasy, then heavy, slumber in the corner. Once Aurela was certain she slept soundly, she finally glanced to Jon. He rose, swift and quiet, stepping over Ghost. He stopped a few inches from Aurelia. She had been immobile while watching Ygritte, but as soon as Jon stood, her breathing quickened. Jon reached out, slowly unhooking the clasp on her cloak. He pulled the draped fabric off her body, hanging it on a hook on the wall. Aurelia shrugged out of the wool jacket beneath and Jon took that as well. Once her outer clothes were off, Jon gently took hold of one of Aurelia's hands. He brought it to his lips then pulled Aurelia up and into his arms. He held her firm, inhaling her scent, recording every inch of her that touched him in his mind.

"Aurelia," he whispered after a moment. "How did you find me?"

She clung to him fiercely, as though to let go would end her. "I was going to the Wall. For you. To tell you…"

Her voice was choked with a sob.

"Robb?" Jon asked, tears welling in his eyes.

Aurelia nodded, still pressed to him.

"They told me. I didn't know - I feared you-"

"No," she said quickly.

Jon pulled back from her, clasping her face in his hands.

"Jon," she whispered, knowing he should not proceed.

His lips were on hers in an instant, her whisper more an invocation than a warning. For a few brief moments the world fell away and they were lost in each other.


	7. Chapter 7

When they finally pulled away from each other, their tears mingled on their cheeks, Jon pressed his forehead to hers.

"I don't know how you came to be here," he whispered, "but thank the gods you did."

Aurelia's fingers clasped his. "There is so much I would say to you."

"And I you," he replied.

"About your new friend?" She asked, perhaps harsher than she intended.

Jon started to pull back, but Aurelia continued to hold his hands.

"What happened to your hand?" She asked, raising up his left hand to examine it.

He felt the urge to pull away until she ran her fingers, soft and deft, over the back of his hand. She looked at it curiously, and with a sad look in her eyes, but not pity.

"The Lord Commander," Jon began, then realized what he was about to divulge.

"What is it?" Aurelia asked, looking up to him.

"I have seen much," Jon murmured. "Sometimes I forget how difficult it might be for others to believe what I have seen without seeing it for themselves."

"When have I not believed you?"

Jon gazed at her, the earnest expression disarming him. He had also forgotten, he admitted to himself, how she bewitched him with her gazes, encouraging him to divulge whatever was on his mind simply because she genuinely cared to know.

"I was Lord Commander Mormont's steward," he began, leading her back to the bench and sitting beside her, their hands never untangling. "One night, late, Ghost woke me jumping and scratching at the door. I let him out and he ran straight for Mormont's quarters. At first there was nothing I could see inside, not even the Lord Commander. But then…" He drifted for a moment, but Aurelia gave his hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at him, sympathetic and attentive.

"Earlier that day there had been a few of our rangers brought back from beyond the Wall. Dead. After a brief search of Commander Mormont's chambers someone came out of the corner. I don't know why, but he seemed determined to kill Mormont, so I fought him. I stabbed him through several times, but he did not fall. Finally I took a lantern off the wall and threw it at him. He caught fire and finally fell, but," Jon looked at his hand. He remained silent for a moment, studying the scars on his hand and the gentle caress of Aurelia's fingers grazing over them.

"The man who attacked," she finally attempted. "He was…" She leaned in and kissed his cheek, drawing his gaze up to hers as she pulled back. "We have both experienced things we never thought to since our parting, I think. Some more easily believed than others," her glance shifted to Ygritte and Jon's eyes followed.

"Still," she continued, "I have always known you to be honest, even if not entirely forthcoming initially-"

"Aurelia," Jon tried, but she placed a finger to his lips, silencing him before she continued.

"What I mean is you have never before played me false, and though we have been parted for a long time, I still trust you. More than anyone."

This last admission was barely above a whisper. Impulsively, Jon brought her hand to his lips and held it there, locking his gaze with hers. The unspoken words between them built up an invisible tension. As Jon finally released her hand, he began to lean in towards her, when Aurelia again shifted her gaze to Ygritte.

"One of us should remain awake, don't you think? In case she decides to - Why did you take her?"

Jon sighed. "I've been trying to convince those currently in charge of the Watch to send for help, again. The more I give them information on the wildlings, the more they disbelieve me." He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "The opposite of you, I suppose."

Aurelia looked back at him, quizzical. "Why would you have information on the wildlings? And how do you know her?"

"It's a long story."

Aurelia shifted her body, straddling the bench and hooking one of her ankles around Jon's leg. "Tell me," she smiled.

"If I do, neither one of us will sleep much, if at all. And-"

"I'm fine without sleep tonight," she said softly. "I want to know as much as you'll tell me. I won't judge you. Promise." She punctuated her promise by placing her chin on his shoulder and looking at him with a playfully pleading gaze. "Please tell me," she whispered.

And he did.


	8. Chapter 8

The journey to the Wall was uneventful, and might have been pleasant if not for Ygritte's constant grumbling. However, she seemed to calm under the watchful eyes of three captors, apparently finally realizing that she would be going to Castle Black despite her own desires to the contrary. Once presented to the commanders, she told them little and rumours surrounding her capture and the arrival of another woman with Jon Snow seemed to fuel the most talk among the commanders and the rest of the men. Only Jon's friend Sam regarded their arrival with a kind of humble acknowledgement and understanding of the circumstances. Aurelia wondered if Jon had told Sam of her, as the way Sam intently observed her spoke of some preconceived ideas about her relationship with Jon. While this perhaps should have worried her, Aurelia felt assured in Sam's loyalty.

After their first night at Castle Black, Aurelia and Ygritte were allowed to dine in the main hall, but not until most of the men had finished eating, and always with multiple guards. Though the guards were mostly for Ygritte who had several with her at all times, while Aurelia was accorded all courtesies befitting her station. On their fourth night, Ygritte's guards had absented themselves to stand outside the hall while the women finished their food.

Ygritte had been terse with Aurelia since leaving the cabin, and rarely spoke to her. However, tonight she seemed itching to say or do something. When Aurelia rose from her seat two tables away from the wildling woman, Ygritte eyed her. She mumbled something Aurelia couldn't hear. Aurelia paused mid-step and turned to Ygritte.

"What was that?"

Ygritte glared at her. "Just don't know what he sees in you. All proper and wound tight."

"You're speaking of Jon," Aurelia replied.

"Who else?"

Aurelia gave her a cold smile. "I'm not wound as tight as it may seem, though I'm not as loose as some."

Ygritte stood, stepping around the bench and trying to conceal the small knife used for cutting her meat.

"He doesn't know how good you play your part, does he? Pretending to be just for him."

Aurelia's smile faded as she took a few steps closer to Ygritte. "Who else would I be for?"

Ygritte flung herself at Aurelia with violent fury, her arms flapping as her knife plunged toward Aurelia's face.

"You can't take him!"

"I think you'll find I always had him," Aurelia quipped as she dodged the woman's attack, spinning around to ready herself for another attempted blow.

The wildling spun as well, swift but with less grace. She faced Aurelia, smiling her crooked grin. Aurelia noted how the woman flexed her heels, trying to find the best way to leap at her competition again.

"He weren't no man when he took me," she snickered. "Don't know how you would have had him before me."

"Language is a peculiar construct," Aurelia remarked without a hint of malice or jealousy in her voice. "There's 'having,' by which one asserts 'knowing' someone... experiencing them in all manner of naked physicality." The woman stared blankly, and Aurelia sighed. "'Fucking,' you mean to say."

At this the woman grinned again. "I mean to say. Well and complete fucking I've had with him. Many a time."

Aurelia smiled, a dark look crossing her eyes. "Aye, and though you have more knowledge of him in that sense, and therefore by your standards I should rightly be the one coming after you with a knife, you're the one angry at me. Why is that do you think?"

Ygritte brought her knife down, still bobbing on her feet and ready for another strike, but Aurelia's tone and words seemed to give her pause. She studied Aurelia, taking in her entire person from the long, chestnut waves plaited in two braids and rolled onto the back of her head, to her eyes of ice, to her petite and fit form laced into well worn leather riding clothes, to her firmly planted stance on the stone floor of the hall.

"I don't like how he looks at you," she finally said, her sad eyes betraying her fighting stance.

"How does he look at me?" Aurelia asked without emotion.

"Like a... I don't know." She threw her hands up in the air and started pacing in front of Aurelia before seeming to remember the two women were meant to be fighting with fist, foot, and blade. Her eyes narrowed as she replied. "He looks at you as though he was drowning and you pulled him from the water. Like you was the sun after an endless night."

Aurelia fought against the smile forming, "Now I think you understand my meaning of 'having.'"

She sauntered away from the woman, weaving around a couple tables before facing her again. When she looked back, the woman seethed, though she had not raised her dagger again. "Which do you think matters more: your 'having' or mine?"

Ygritte screamed, and threw her dagger at Aurelia, who dodged it. Anger did not help the woman's aim.

"That is why you're the one who is angered," Aurelia remarked as she glided out of the hall, leaving the woman heaving with a burden of emotions she was not equipped to carry.

Stepping outside into the crisp air, Aurelia glanced at the guards. "You might consider not giving her food that necessitates sharp utensils anymore."

Their eyes widened for a moment before they turned and rushed inside.


	9. Chapter 9

Aurelia entered Jon's chambers with a smooth, graceful silence which amazed him. He did not hear her footsteps outside his door, nor did Ghost make any sound acknowledging her presence until she was in the room. Then, Ghost trotted to her with as easy a gait as he always approached Jon himself (and no one else), nuzzling her leg as she scratched behind the direwolf's ears. Ghost moved to Jon's door and plopped down in front of it, yawning as he rested his head on top of his front paws. Aurelia joined Jon by the fire, her smile disarming his astonishment causing him to smile back at her.

"You are a marvel," he remarked as her eyes sparkled in the firelight.

Aurelia chuckled. "Your lover doesn't seem to think so."

Jon bowed his head, still ashamed of his actions with his wildling girl -the wildling girl - more so given his enjoyment of her. Part of him kept wishing for a chastising from Aurelia, or even outright fury. He believed he deserved it. Yet she always spoke of his relations calmly, though sometimes tinged with sadness, which hurt him more than if she had struck him. He gazed at his childhood friend, his dearest companion, the woman of his dreams. All his wishes and hopes for happiness included her at his side, but he could not bring himself to tell her. His oath, given to Qhorin in service of the Watch, allowed him a freedom of sorts with Ygritte. Now, back at the Wall and under enough suspicion, he dared not express his feelings regarding the one person for whom he might abandon his oath. She knew, and she did not try to pry the words from him - and for that he loved her all the more.

"I should be careful around her," Aurelia remarked as she took her gloves off, placing them on the floor near the fire. "She's a fighter, and I wager she's more like to fight in an attempt to win your favor than to scheme for it... or love for it." She cast Jon a look, trying to gauge his emotions. He gave little away, as always, but enough that, after years of knowing him and being in his confidence, he knew she could glean his thoughts. She pressed her own advantage to further cement her own beliefs with regard to his feelings for her, and for the other woman.

"She'll likely be in a strop with you as well." She added, smirking, "Though she's more like to try and pierce herself on you than come at you with a dagger."

Jon's eyes widened. "She came after you?" Ghost, head still on his paws, gave a low growl, the hair on his neck rising. When Aurelia put a hand on Jon's knee, Ghost settled.

"She did. She missed, obviously. Her temper does not aid her fighting. I believe we came to an understanding of sorts." Jon raised an eyebrow at her. "She hates me, and I doubt will ever feel anything less than slighted by my presence, but she understands me. Next time she tries to injure me she won't do me the courtesy of charging."

Jon closed his eyes for a moment before standing. Ghost's head came up, his eyes following his master around the room with a look as uneasy as Jon's. "I'm sorry," he replied. "I should never have-"

"You did what was needed," she cut in. "And you came to care for her."

She continued before he could interject. "There's not shame in that. Especially for a man who had not... experienced a woman like her, shall we say?"

Jon turned to face the fire, words and thoughts boiling within but unable to speak. Ghost rose and trotted over to Aurelia, nuzzling his head on her knees. Aurelia ran her hand over the direwolf's back a few times before Ghost settled in at her feet. She glanced up to Jon, his eyes gazing at the fire, though seeming miles away.

"I wanted it to be you," he whispered. "How terrible is that? To think of another when someone wants you..."

Aurelia blushed, falling silent for a moment before finding her tongue again. "What is it that wounds you more? That you wished for me the first time, or that you began to see the good in her, and to desire her in times after?"

He turned his head from her and she had her answer. Aurelia rose, stepping over Ghost, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, willing him to look at her. At first he would not comply, but as she spoke he slowly turned his eyes to meet her gaze.

"It would be a lie for me to tell you I harbour no jealousy toward her, though I'll never let it show to her. Growing up with constant visits to Winterfell, I always felt at home. When Arya was born and I was allowed to hold her the first time, she felt like my own sister. It was easy for me and I lamented the times it was not easy for you, because to me you were as much a Stark, as much Ned's blood, as anyone. I followed my heart much as I could as a child, no less than I do now, but then I kept myself enslaved to duty. I knew one day it was likely I would become betrothed to Robb and I never grudged him that. I understood it even though I did not truly desire it, because I wanted to be a part of the Stark family and Robb was the easiest way for everyone else. Everyone except us."

Jon was gazing at her now with a longing she'd only seen in his eyes a handful of times. He also looked as though he might cry, but she continued.

"By Ygritte's customs you've earned a right to her that no other man has. I know the wildlings do not believe in faithfulness the way others do, so to them a man could steal more than one woman and have neither shame nor guilt. And the women should not feel slighted. Yet she does, Jon. When you were alone with her, you were hers. You gave yourself up to her even though, at times, it may have been against your true desires. Now that you're free to be your own man again she senses more keenly that your caring for her is genuine. Yet with me around she senses more. She knows she's not the first woman you've stolen."

Aurelia reached up, running a hand through his hair, down his face. She felt him tremble under her touch but he did not flinch from her. His gaze remained steady. "You stole me, Jon Snow. When we were children and you kissed my first scratch from a blade, you stole me. When my horse threw me, forcing me to stay abed in Winterfell for near two months and you visited me every day, then encouraged me with as much kindness as jibing while I recovered, you stole me. When it was announced that I would marry Robb and you stood in the hall, never flinching, but that night you came to my chamber and sat with me in silence, then left me with a kiss and tears in your eyes, you stole me. I have seen and experienced more of this world than you, and like you am no longer as innocent as we were in the days before we parted... but part of me has always been with you. You stole me, and what you stole I'd never have you give back."

Jon gazed down at her as her eyes searched his for a response. He covered her hand where it rested on his neck.

"Aurelia," he whispered, almost enchanted, as he leaned closer to her. His lips neared hers as she closed her eyes, until both started back at the knocking on Jon's door.

Jon sighed, leaving Aurelia at the fire as he went to open the door. A breathless boy stood before him, shivering.

"What is it?" Jon asked, hoping his tone conveyed as much concern as it did annoyance.

"Pyp wanted me to tell you... she's gone. The wildling girl."

Jon's eyes narrowed. "When? What happened?"

Ghost had risen and stood behind Jon. The boy, intimidated by the direwolf, trembled more. "I, uh... well, she seems to have... I mean she was here and then."

Aurelia stepped forward, positioning herself between Ghost and Jon, shielding the boy from the beast he eyed with fear. "What happened?"

The boy dipped his head in reverence, "M'lady, she... well no one quite knows how she disappeared, only that she was seen in the common hall, then atop the Wall, and now we can find no trace of her. We thought Lord Snow should know and..." He trailed off, his voice wavering again.

Aurelia glanced up at Jon's grim face, and noticed his hand flexing as her gaze drifted downward. She looked at the boy with scrutiny, "And they wanted someone to check that she wasn't here as well, didn't they?"

The boy's head drooped as Jon's stare bore into him.

"I should tell the other brothers, then, that you plainly saw she was not with me," Jon clipped. The boy nodded and began to move away. "You may also inform them they should begin preparing for an onslaught from the wildlings."

The boy looked, up, swallowed hard. "I will." He turned, walking away as fast as he could manage without seeming to run.

Jon closed the door and began pacing his room. Stopping at his desk-like table, papers strewn about from Sam's research and Mormont's notes, he slammed his palm on the table. "This is my fault," he muttered. "I thought if I brought her here..."

"You thought you might tame her," Aurelia finished.

"For a time at least." He stood silent for a moment, gazing again into the fire. "I know her better than that. I only hoped she might, for once, listen to someone else. To me." Ghost tilted his head at this, then moved to lay down near the fire.

Aurelia walked to him, taking his hands in hers. She massaged his fingers as she spoke, not looking up at him. "This is not all of your making. You thought by keeping her here to treat with you, with the Watch, it might keep the wildlings at bay for a time, and perhaps tensions could be eased. That may have been possible, it may not have been." She glanced up to see his earlier sharp gaze softening as he looked at her. "But the realm knows it would have been more possible without me here."

Jon clasped her hands, forcing himself to remain a foot's distance from her. "You saved my life," he stated. "And hers as well. Even if you had not, I do not regret your coming here. I will never regret your presence in my life."

Her wan smile cut deeper wounds within him. He wanted to speak more, and much less. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to praise her with his lips in every way possible, yet he could not find it within himself to take such blatant action against his oath.

Aurelia raised herself to the tips of her toes and leaned toward him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "Nor will I ever regret your presence in mine." She pulled away, loosing her hands from his grasp. "You should go. Help your brothers prepare for what will come from the wildlings."

She bowed to him. "I am at your service."


	10. Chapter 10

Snow crunched beneath her boots as she crossed the yard. The sound which once brought her an odd comfort now only made Aurelia think of bones crunching beneath her feet. Stannis' arrival had come in time, but not swift enough. Too many had died before her eyes and at her hand. She'd killed four men while involved in the campaign with Robb, and the Thenns who attacked Jon and Ygritte, but now she could not count them all and did not want to. And before she could regain her bearings, Jon was taken from her again - sent on a suicide mission, which he survived thank the gods, after being imprisoned on crimes which no one could defend but Jon himself. Jon's word and explanations meant nothing to Janos Slynt, but Aurelia knew the truth. Though she could not free him (she could, but it would not help them if she did), she worked to sway other brothers to his innocence. Those who saw Jon fight, saw him command and defend the Wall, they were the easiest to sway. Of course, none of them had enough sway to release him and Aurelia had to work against Slynt in secret, her presence already endangering her safety. When Jon returned from Mance's camp, Aurelia had to restrain herself to the extent that she could not allow herself to see him. Until she got her emotions under control again, one look and her secret would be out. She was summoned after battle almost immediately by Stannis, and remained in his keep except for the occasional errand when she was certain Jon would not be about.

This errand had been for Melisandre, to deliver correspondence to Maester Aemon. Over the past few days, the red woman had seemed more accustomed to Aurelia's presence, and they had dined together twice. Melisandre said it was because being the only free women there they should take comfort in one another, but Aurelia could sense more. The way Melisandre looked at her sometimes, as though she truly did see Aurelia's future, was unnerving.

As she continued across the yard, she glanced up to one of the catwalks and saw Melisandre. The woman beckoned Aurelia with a glance, and she followed. Melisandre walked slowly to allow Aurelia to catch up. Once they were together, Melisandre gave Aurelia one of her knowing looks.

"His Grace requests your presence," she said softly.

Aurelia nodded.

"He has requested to see Jon Snow as well."

Aurelia's insides knotted, but she replied coolly. "Has he?"

"His Grace grows a bit impatient with certain matters and believes the young man might be an ally." Melisandre looked to Aurelia, but she gave no reply. "I believe you and I have had some influence in that conclusion."

"I am honored that His Grace receives my words openly, but I do not pretend to have influence."

"That is partly why you do," Melisandre smiled.

"Partly?"

The red woman smiled a secretive smile. "Yes, partly."

Aurelia eyed her before continuing. "Why tell me of His Grace's request to see Jon Snow? Or include me in the meeting at all?"

"Do you not wish to see him? You have avoided him since His Grace arrived."

"Many matters required my attention for His Grace's needs."

"Indeed…" Melisandre trailed off and for a brief moment Aurelia glimpsed a flicker in the woman's face that surprised her. Something akin to jealousy flared in Melisandre's eyes.

"I am at King Stannis' disposal," Aurelia commented, "and yet I can find little reason why he continues to seek my opinions."

"Truly?" Melisandre asked, the smile creeping back into her features. "Then perhaps you are not as perceptive as I had believed."

Aurelia wanted to ask more, but held her tongue. Yet she wondered what Stannis' plans were for Jon. She could play her part, especially to keep Jon safe, but would Stannis have any care for Jon's safety?

* * *

 

Entering the room in which Stannis chose to hold his court, such as it was, Jon contemplated what awaited him. Janos Slynt had locked him away for treason, and done so only after he had the support for it; treason enacted at the command of a senior member of the Watch. His freedom awarded, the battle won and Mance captured, he wondered what chastisement he was meant to receive from the potential king, and what Stannis might ask of him.

He never expected to see her standing by Stannis' side. She had sent him two notes since his return from Mance's camp, and he had not seen her at all. In truth he ached to see her, but he could not let those emotions show. They would see one another again in time, soon, but he never expected it to be like this.

With concerted effort, Jon bent his knee to Stannis, looking him in the eye as he forced himself to avoid looking to Aurelia. When he rose, Stannis regarded him with cold, blue eyes, similar in color to Aurelia's, but hard and bitter where hers tended toward exuberant and warm.

"So you are the Jon Snow everyone's been assaulting me with accounts of," Stannis remarked, sounding unimpressed with whatever had been recanted to him about Jon.

"I am the only Jon Snow of the Night's Watch that I know of, Your Grace," Jon replied, trying not to address Stannis in a sarcastic tone. He felt vindicated slighting Janos Slynt, but Stannis Baratheon he knew at a glance was not one to suffer sarcasm without repercussions.

"Indeed," Stannis muttered. He looked to Aurelia, drawing Jon to gaze at her as well. Dressed in a simple, fitted gown of an amber tint with a dark brown hooded cloak fastened around her shoulders, Aurelia regarded Stannis with an air of respect and humility. Yet Jon thought he saw in her eyes a look of pity. "Lady Aurelia, now that the man stands before us, perhaps you could enlighten me on these disparate accounts I hear of him. He is, I understand from prior conversation, known to you."

Aurelia bowed her head. "Yes, Your Grace. I knew Jon Snow throughout my youth."

"And did you find him as treacherous and deceitful as some of his black brothers would have me believe?"

Jon's eyes flicked to Aurelia, but she held her gaze with Stannis. "No. I always knew him to be honourable. Truthful, but cunning as well. A bit impulsive at times, stubborn – especially when he believed a cause to be just."

"Craven?" Stannis asked in an impudent tone which made Jon twitch.

"Never, Your Grace," she asserted.

"Disloyal?"

"No," she replied firmly.

"Mmmm…" Stannis mused as Jon stole another look at Aurelia.

"If I may, Your Grace," The red woman standing on Stannis' other side, his right, finally spoke.

Everything about her unnerved Jon and from the few whispers heard around the Watch, he was far from alone.

 _What is Aurelia doing in this court?_ He wondered. _What else has she not told me?_

Melisandre continued, "Though the accounts of Jon Snow differ among his black brothers, those who hold him in regard think of him much as Lady Aurelia does. And he led the Watch in its defense against the wildlings until our arrival. If not for him, it is likely there would have been little if any Wall left for us to aid when we arrived."

Stannis looked to Aurelia for confirmation. "Not wishing to laud him further if it displeases Your Grace, but Melisandre is correct. Jon held the Wall firm against the attack where many of the men who now decry him could not be counted upon for much beyond having orders shouted to them."

"Yes, so you've both told me before," Stannis replied. "You have a mind and mouth of your own, Jon Snow," Stannis addressed him. "What do you think should be done now?"

"With me, Your Grace, or the Wall?" he asked.

As he regarded Jon, Stannis' eyes narrowed. "Clever boy." He remained silent a moment longer, studying Jon.

"Very well," he finally acknowledged. "I am inclined to believe the more favorable accounts of your character, for now, though your stubbornness and sharp tongue may yet undo you. I have great respect for the Wall and its defenses, for without it there would be no kingdom for me to fight for."

Another man, less embittered, might have smirked at that, but Stannis expression remained like a stone. He gestured to Aurelia. "My lady, would you accompany the young watchman back to his quarters and provide him some information once you are alone?"

Aurelia nodded. "Yes, Your Grace." She stepped toward Jon as Stannis addressed him.

"We shall speak soon, Jon Snow. On a great many matters. For now, I suggest you ruminate on where your loyalties to this realm lie and listen to our friend about how I came here and why."

"I will, Your Grace," Jon said, bowing.

Aurelia held out her arm, and Jon slid his hand up to take her hand from below. Walking out of the hall, Jon felt Melisandre's gaze follow them.


	11. Chapter 11

They did not speak until after reaching the main corridor out of the wing of the keep. Once outside in the crisp air, snowflakes lightly darting to the ground, Jon moved his hand away to pull up his hood. Before Aurelia raised hers, he did it for her, taking a step to face her as he pulled the soft fur up over her long waves. His gaze pierced her, but he did not ask what he thought.

"Soon," she said, moving his hands away from her face. She breezed past him along the walkway and he followed, unsure of what else to do.

"That's all you have to say to me?" He asked after a few dozen yards.

"Until we reach your chambers and I'm certain we're alone, yes. This is a perilous time for you, Jon. Too many eyes watch you and ears listen for you to speak out of turn. I will not risk you being imprisoned again for a hasty word."

 _What else are you not telling me?_ Jon wanted to demand. _Can I believe anything you say to me now?_ He knew, deep within himself, that she was his most trusted friend and would never betray him. Yet seeing her as a member of Stannis' court, standing there as proper a lady as he'd ever seen her, conversing with the would-be king at such ease… and she never spoke a word of it to him. _Why is she hiding? And what lay hidden still?_

When they reached Jon's rooms, Ghost sat in the doorway, wagging his tail. He stood and nuzzled Aurelia's leg when she entered as she smoothed a hand over his head. Once inside with the door locked, Jon removed his coat, hanging it on the wall. Aurelia removed hers as well, placing it on the back of the large wooden chair in the corner. Jon stalked to the fireplace, stoking the coals and logs to bring life back to the flames. When a pleasing blaze resumed in the fireplace, he turned to regard Aurelia.

He meant to chastise her, but when he turned to look upon her, her wavy hair loosed by the wind, the blush on her cheeks from the cold, the way her dress draped over her form, and the sadness in her eyes as she met his gaze, the words caught in his throat. Before he could regain his thoughts, she moved to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him to her. He reflexively returned her embrace, then felt her melt into his body and gave himself over to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I swore not to tell you anything of Stannis' approach in case they never made it," she said as she pulled back from him, running her hands down his sides to rest at his hips.

"He never really told me why he desired me to go first, and all I got from Melisandre was that it was necessary that I did. His ability to become her whipping boy without realizing it never ceases to astonish me."

She looked at his face, a map of confusion, frustration, and amazement, and stifled a laugh. "I'm sorry. I started in the middle. I don't even know where the beginning is, really." She ran her hands over his, stroking them with her soft fingers.

"Wherever the beginning is, know this: Stannis came here to assist the Wall. I came here for you. Whatever mummer's farce I need to play to know your safety is assured, I will. In front of those faces, your brothers, Stannis and Melisandre and their court, I am what they make of me which is only as stable as how I present myself to them."

She kissed his burned hand, sending a not at all unpleasant tingle through him. "I lost Robb. Winterfell is gone. My own lands are caught up in a battle for their worth and my place with it, but I am no longer a slave to the duties others would impose on me. There is only one loyalty I now hold as my sole point of honour. My loyalty to you."

He opened his mouth to speak and she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him as another shiver rippled through him from her touch. "It cannot be public, for your safety as well as mine. It must be hidden away as our secret for who knows how long. Possibly forever, though I do not wish such. But if you believe anything about me, Jon, believe in my feelings for you. Your life is more precious to me than anything." She ran her finger across his lips, gazing at him with a look of such sincerity and passion it made him dizzy. She whispered, "Now, and always."

"You freed me," he uttered barely above a whisper as she moved her hand away from his lips.

She shook her head. "Though I made a compelling case for you… as did Sam, and several other brothers. And Stannis would have, had you not been released before." She smiled with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I don't believe Stannis cares much for Ser Alliser, or Janos Slynt either, so any way of undoing their work brings him a certain amount of satisfaction."

Jon regarded her, his eyes brightening at her smile. "Why do I think you may be the only person able to make Stannis smile?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Perhaps it's because I know how to find the light in people."

"The lady Melisandre must appreciate that," he remarked, hoping to bait her into discussing her obvious dislike for the sorceress.

"Appreciate is a strong word. We define inner light in different ways." Aurelia said, her face darkening briefly. "But she sees me as someone worthy of imparting some of her secrets to and it has not entirely served me ill thus far… Though I am one of few able to make that claim." She moved to one of the chairs near the fire and sat down, Ghost moving from his position near the door to lay at her side. "Still, I should not speak so much of her to you. She's one woman about whom the less you know, the better."

"The better, or the safer?" he asked as he sat in the chair beside her.

"Both," she answered.

They sat for several hours as Aurelia explained to Jon how Stannis decided to assist the trials at the Wall when none other did. She spoke of his desire to obtain the Iron Throne while using the Wall as a stronghold to defend the realm from the wildlings and other creatures Melisandre insisted to him were more than just legend and were a true threat to the North, and thus the entire kingdom. Aurelia recounted to Stannis her own knowledge of the Wall and that its paltry numbers would not survive more than one full wildling attack, and its captains knew this but were always refused aid from the rest of the kingdom. Some information Jon had inferred, some intrigued him, yet everything she spoke carried an underlying tone of her own feelings. She told true when she admitted her reason for coming to the Wall. Why he ever doubted her now filled him with guilt. She played her part well, and would need to continue doing so, but he knew now as much as ever that she loved him.


	12. Chapter 12

Jon returned to his rooms to find Aurelia sitting by the fire. She did not lift her gaze until Jon sat in the chair beside her; Ghost nestled onto the floor between them.

"I do not know what I am doing," he said, defeated.

"Protecting the realm," she said with such certainty it made him even more unsure of his own worth.

"He offered me Winterfell. He offered me home. A title. A wife. I turned it all away, twice. And now I am Lord Commander." He sighed. "I didn't want this, but I cannot betray my duty."

She nodded. He reached over to her, running his fingers along her smooth hand. How her hands retained such soft skin with all her training and fights he never knew, other than her speed which rarely led to damage of her hands or arms. "And I could not return to Winterfell. Could never return there without you by my side."

Aurelia continued gazing into the fire. "I know," she whispered.

He thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes, but when she looked at him a moment later her eyes were clear.

"I'm proud of you, Jon. You've chosen to lead where you are most needed. Your choices will be difficult, seeming impossible at times I should imagine, but I have faith you will uphold your duty to protect the realm."

She rose and moved to the fire as he stared at her, puzzled.

"You speak as though you will not be here to witness it."

"I cannot be," she stated. He rose and moved to her side as she continued. "Stannis will be leaving soon to try and gain support from the northmen. He'll follow your advice to win them, but he knows they need more. If I go and attend them on his behalf, he has more of a chance."

"You don't even believe he should be king," Jon remarked, aghast at her proclamation of leaving. "You've said it specifically."

"Only to you," she cut in. She bowed her head. "I have, and I mean it. I don't know that anyone needs or deserves that damn throne. But what else am I to do, Jon? Stay here?" The pain in her voice made him flinch. "Await his queen's arrival and put her in a fouler mood than she already is? Attend the red witch as she crafts her own schemes?" She shook her head. "No. I do this, and I can free myself from Stannis. Either the North will support him and he can get on without me, or they won't and I find another path to take. I cannot simply abandon him now, but my part in his bid for this kingdom will end soon."

"You think so?" Jon asked. She looked up at him, then away again as jealousy flared in his eyes. "He wants you. If you encouraged him he would take the first opportunity to find a reason for having two queens… or less."

"Two queens?"

"The Targaryens did at times."

She shook her head. "I'm not sure Stannis would want himself aligned with them… and what makes you think he wants me?"

Jon eyed her. "You are a highborn, landed, and rather rich woman. You are young and beautiful, honest and brave. You don't pander to him, but you respect him. He desires you, and would not take you to bed without wedding you, I don't believe. And you are not promised to another."

"Even if you're right in your assumptions, I would have to accept him first," she said. She tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. "That is something I will never do."

Jon swallowed, his emotions heightening. "You could…" he trailed off.

"No, Jon, I could not." Tears brimmed in her eyes but she blinked them away. "I will not ask you to break your oath. I would not ever ask of you anything which would betray your honour. Not for something as trivial as my own desires." She sighed, turning from him. Ghost raised his head, a small whimper escaping from him.

"I should go," Aurelia said. "Perhaps I shall find Melisandre and inquire if there is a cure for my foolishness."

Jon dedicated his life to the Watch. He knew from the moment Aurelia was promised to his half-brother that he would isolate himself from their lives in as honourable a way as he could. If he could not be with her, he would not be with any woman. Then Ygritte. Robb's death. Winterfell burnt and gone. He wanted her still, but could not bring himself to betray the oath.

It took her two steps to change his mind.

Jon reached out, grabbing her arm and turning her back to him. "You told Stannis once that you never knew me to be craven. That was a lie." He pulled her closer. "I've been a foolish coward with you because of duty, and my own stubbornness. We may not be able to have the lives we desire. Perhaps we don't deserve them or perhaps our own happiness should never matter above our honour."

He brushed a lock of hair from her face, then wiped a tear from her cheek as she stared into his eyes. "But I will see myself tried as a traitor again before I let you leave me without speaking the truth."

"Jon-" She whispered before he cut her off.

"I love you, Aurelia. Only you. Now and always. And you can leave this room now with those words, or we can for one night live as we desire. For this night I am yours. Tonight," he said as he closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands. "For all the nights that can never be, I would do what I always feared." She stood motionless, silent. He knew she would not ask him to break his oath for her, but the desire in her eyes offered no resistance.

He leaned his head down, resting his forehead against hers as he whispered, "I should have fought for you. Whatever the punishment, I should have done this the night you were promised to another."

He captured her lips with his, caressing her neck as her body leaned into his. She slid her hands around his shoulders, pulling herself into him. He moved a hand to her hip, running his thumb along its slope. When their tongues met, every nerve in his body tingled with delight and passion. Aurelia almost leapt into his arms. Jon hoisted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Running her hands through his hair as they continued kissing, he carried her to his bed. After he sat on the edge, her legs still wrapped around him, he moved his lips down her neck, kissing and nibbling his way across her collarbone. When a soft moan escaped her lips, Ghost rose and silently slipped downstairs.

* * *

 

Aurelia lay entangled in Jon's arms. He absentmindedly stroked the arm she had draped across his chest as she ran her fingers through his unruly black locks. Sleep had willfully not come for either of them, though Aurelia saw Jon's tired eyes fighting the desire for rest. Yet he also looked blissfully happy, an expression she never saw on his face. The reality of their situation stuck her at last, and tears began to well in her eyes. Jon looked at her and his smiled faded. As she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to will the tears away, he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips.

When he pulled away from her, he whispered, "Shhhh, my love. There is time still."

"Not enough," she said, eyes still closed as she tried to control her emotions. When she opened her eyes to look at him, the concern on his face forced her to gather herself. She smiled, "but better than we have ever had."

"Indeed," he smirked.

Aurelia kissed his shoulder, sighing. "For all the nights that can never be…"

"Have I missed something?" Jon inquired playfully.

Smiling as she rested her chin against his shoulder, she replied, "No."

 _I only wish there could be a lifetime more of these nights_ , she wanted to say. As she tilted her head back and looked into Jon's eyes, she saw her own feelings reflected. She kissed him again with the force of her passion, and he returned it in kind. When they separated, she rose from the bed, wrapping one of the wool blankets around her shoulders.

"Once I leave with Stannis," she began.

"No," Jon interrupted, throwing aside the blankets and furs, and leaping to her side. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "Once you leave this room, we again are merely lifelong friends. Nothing more. Until that moment," he continued, turning her to face him. "We are what we should be. No hiding."

Aurelia shrugged the blanket down below her breasts, then opened it, encircling Jon at the waist. As their bodies pressed together, Jon leaned his head down and kissed her.

"Say it," Aurelia whispered when they broke.

"My love," Jon replied. "My life. My happiness. Now and always."

"Now and always," she nodded.


	13. Chapter 13

When Aurelia slipped from Jon’s chambers, she made for Melisandre’s rooms. The red woman was in the bath but had the guards usher Aurelia inside. Once the guards left, Aurelia moved from the outer chamber to the inner one. The room was over warm and humid from the steam. A large fire burned in a fireplace along with small pits and candles everywhere. The glow of the shuttered room seemed to reflect the red in Melisandre’s eyes.

“I have had a bath prepared for you, my lady,” Melisandre said, her eyes closed and head tilted back in the tub. Aurelia glanced around the room and saw another steaming bath near the shuttered, covered window. She moved to it, removing her cloak and dress and hanging them on a hook on the wall. She worked off her loosely tied stays, then her undergown and stepped into the tub The water was still hot, but not painfully so as Melisandre’s prepared baths sometimes were.

“You have done the lord’s work,” Melisandre said as Aurelia eased down into the water. Her body ached in many places, and yet each ache was a happy reminder of how she came to be so sore. She sighed before immersing herself fully, then coming back to the surface. Melisandre had turned in her tub to face Aurelia.

“I have done what you asked,” Aurelia replied softly.

“And what you desired,” Melisandre said with a smile.

“That’s not--”

Melisandre cut her off with a wave of her hand. “It is no matter. Sometimes our own desires and the plans of our lord align. Sometimes they do not. What we must do is try to follow his light in all things.”

“It did not change his mind,” Aurelia replied. “He will not break his oath any further.”

“We cannot control his actions, nor his will, lady Aurelia.”

“I would not try to,” she countered. “I only say it so as not to disappoint you should you be expecting a different result. My sway with him is not so strong as your fires seem to tell you.”

Melisandre smiled at her. For all her love of heat, it was a chilling smile. “Perhaps. Men are often manipulated by a woman, even when she is not attempting such. It takes a man of particular character to deny his desires in favor of what he sees to be his duty.”

“It does. And is that not something the fires tell you?”

“Alas, no,” Melisandre said, standing up. She stepped out of the tub and moved to a nearby chest, picking up a red dressing robe and wrapping it around herself.

Aurelia began to wash herself with the sponge and soap provided.

“You may be correct that this young commander is more Stark than what others perceive, but there is more to him than that.”

“I know there is,” Aurelia replied, scrubbing her arm with the sponge.

“I’m not sure you truly do,” Melisandre returned. Before Aurelia could interject, she continued. “Your clothes will be waiting for you in my outer chambers. I must see the king. If you would be so kind as to join us for breakfast, I believe there are some matters he wishes settled before we part.”

Aurelia nodded and Melisandre turned and left the room. Aurelia continued scrubbing for a moment before dropping the sponge in the water. Her hands began trembling just before the tears broke.

“Not now,” she told herself, even as the tears fell.

 _Then when?_ A voice answered back. _When do you acknowledge this betrayal?_

_No. Stop thinking that way. I did not betray him. I saved him._

_You did exactly what she asked of you._

_She asked me to convince him to go to Winterfell, to return home with me. I did not do that. I will not. Not while he is commander and a man of the Watch._

_She also asked you to make him yours._

_That was no betrayal_ , she cursed herself. She rose out of the tub, and moved toward Melisandre’s where a second dressing gown lay. She wiped her tears on the sleeve after tying the gown around her.

 _How was it not a betrayal?_ Her mind echoed back.

“He already was mine,” she murmured aloud. “And I will not lose him to her, or anyone.”

 

Aurelia put on the undergarments and dressed quickly in a gown of deep crimson with gold trim. Stannis had had dresses made for Melisandre before their journey to the Wall, dresses for the cold. However, Melisandre had been content with her light dresses, saying the lord of light gave her all the warmth she needed. She had some of the dresses altered to fit Aurelia, of which this was one.

As Aurelia combed out her hair and braided it, pinning it up in a loose bun, she found her mind drifting to the days leading to her official betrothal to Robb.

It had been a grand celebration at Winterfell, an announcement which had been planned for years. The great hall would be filled with many of the Stark bannermen and lords. Even Catelyn’s uncle, the Blackfish, made an appearance on behalf of House Tully. Though he loathed such displays, his brother had been battling an illness, Lysa was in King’s Landing with her husband and young, sickly son who could not abide travel over such a distance, and Edmure was to remain with charge of Riverrun until his father recovered.

Aurelia remembered the Blackfish not only because he was the only family Catelyn had there, but because he was one of the few who saw more than others and yet maintained discretion.

It was only after the celebrations and the guests had left Winterfell that Jon told her of the conversation with Brynden Tully. Jon had been practising in the yard with Theon, Ser Rodrik looking on. In the days leading up to the announcement banquet, Jon trained as often as he could. Anything to provide a distraction to the reality of what must soon come. After a particularly intense bout with Theon, in which Jon might have thrust a sword through his ribs had they been using steel instead of wood, Ser Rodrik told Jon to take a moment and catch his breath while he gave some instruction to Theon. Jon went to a well across the training yard and pulled up the bucket, taking a few sips with his hands. When he looked up, the Blackfish stood across the well from him.

“You’re trained well,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord.”

The Blackfish waved his hand dismissively. “Gods boy, don’t call me that. The Blackfish is fine for half the bloody country. It’s fine for a nephew of mine, however distant our relation.”

Jon had told Aurelia it was one of the few times he felt his bastardy both acknowledged, then dismissed, as though it were only of passing importance for a single moment, then necessary to discuss further.

“You’re a natural, too. Some boys the technique is learned, but the spirit is never there. Others have the fight in them, but can never hold to learning the skill. You have both.”

“Thank you,” Jon replied. “I try to match Robb, though I doubt I’ll ever have his grace.”

“Grace isn’t all it’s made out to be. Sure you look pretty in a tournament, and being quick is just as important as being strong, but you must be prepared to be ruthless when it is called for if you’re ever in a real fight. It isn’t about honor then, it’s about keeping yourself alive.”

Jon nodded, not fully understanding then, but knowing wisdom was being imparted to him. Ser Rodrik called him back and Jon nodded again to the Blackfish. “I have to go, ser. I’ll remember what you said.”

The Blackfish gave a single nod in return. Jon turned to go, and stopped short. Aurelia was walking across the yard in her riding clothes. She waved to Ser Rodrik and Theon, not having noticed Jon by the well.

“Good morning, my lady,” Ser Rodrik called.

“And you, Ser Rodrik,” she answered. She inclined her head to Theon. “Good morning, Theon.”

“It is indeed, my lady,” he smiled back.

“Are you learning much today?”

“He’s learning how to recover from being knocked on his backside,” Ser Rodrik said with a laugh.

“Ser Rodrik,” Aurelia teased. “You’re twice his size. Shouldn’t there be two of him?”

“I’m not the one doing the knocking, my lady,” Ser Rodrik grinned, and gave a nod behind her.

She turned and saw Jon, and beamed. Jon felt his knees go weak at the site of her.

“Good morning, Jon,” she called. “And you, Ser Brynden.”

The Blackfish had come up alongside Jon. Jon gave a stiff bow as he called back, “Good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning,” the Blackfish returned.

Just then, Arya’s voice echoed Aurelia’s name. “Duty calls,” she said, still smiling at Jon. “Arya’s riding lesson.”

Jon nodded to her and she strode off. His gaze followed her until she was out of sight. Ser Rodrik and Theon had already resumed talking, Ser Rodrik showing Theon some ways to dodge thrusts. Jon made to walk across to them when the Blackfish grabbed his arm.

“You love that girl,” the Blackfish said quietly.

Jon froze. No one had said anything like that to him before. Not even Robb, who he suspected knew. Not even his father, who Jon was certain knew.

“I don’t--” Jon tried, but the Blackfish cut him off.

“You do.”

Jon dropped his head.

“I may not know much about women, or marriage, but I’ll tell you this, boy. Tell her. Tell her you love her, and then, if you truly love her, do not shame her. Tell her and let that be the end of it.”

 

There was a knock at the door and Aurelia’s mind snapped back to the present with a sigh.

“Yes?” She called.

“Lady Moors,” Stannis’ voice echoed. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered, moving to the door. She opened it and Stannis stood before her, two guards flanking him.

She curtseyed. “Apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

“You did not. I was on my way to breakfast and thought to see if you would accompany me. Why did you think I would be waiting?”

Aurelia stepped from the room and took the arm he offered. “Lady Melisandre said you were expecting me for breakfast.”

They walked down the corridor together, the guards behind them. “Once again, she knows my mind before I do.”

“Do you not find that unnerving at times?” Aurelia asked softly.

“Yes,” he replied. “Sometimes I do.”


	14. Chapter 14

Seated to Stannis’ left at breakfast, Aurelia fought to focus on anything but the memory of Jon’s touch, or his words during the night. Stannis and Melisandre discussed some ideas for Selyse’s arrival, which Aurelia knew she would be gone for (and for which she was grateful).   
Stannis then turned his gaze on her.   
“Lady Aurelia,” he began.   
“Your Grace,” she smiled.   
“I am afraid I must once again request you enter the fray before me.”  
“In what way?”  
Stannis took a sip of his ale, watching her carefully. “Some matters have arisen which require my attention before starting for the northern houses. However, word has also reached me that the Boltons mean to leave Winterfell.”  
“According to whom, Your Grace?”  
“The Karstarks. If it is true, I want confirmation. If not, I want to know why such information was delivered.”  
“Your Grace, if you send me to Karhold--”  
“You will go to the Umbers. Learn what they know and send word to me. The roads have been safe on my rides down to Queenscrown so you should encounter no danger, and I believe you are familiar with the roads from there to the Hearth.”  
“I am, Your Grace.”  
“Good. You will journey to Last Hearth and find out what you can about the Boltons, and the Karstarks, and any other northmen. Their plans and opinions are of great interest to me.”  
“When do you wish me to leave?”  
“Tomorrow. I sent word of your arrival on my ride to Queenscrown last week.”  
Aurelia bowed her head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”  
“I imagine you must prepare for your journey,” Stannis said abruptly.   
“I haven’t much to pack,” Aurelia said with a small smile.   
“It is a long ride, and it may be some time before you return here or join me elsewhere.” Stannis replied. “Your preparations should be thorough.”  
Aurelia nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, Your Grace. If there is nothing further--”  
“I will see you at breakfast tomorrow,” he interjected, then stood.   
Aurelia rose and gave a small curtsy before backing away. Melisandre gave her a soft, knowing smile, the kind of smile that made Aurelia want to slap the woman, but she smiled back. 

Aurelia went to her room and prepared her belongings carefully. Last time what she had was carried with Melisandre. This time she would have to take all she could on horseback. Rolling up two dresses, she made sure to include a necklace Robb had given her, and a leather and silver strap for her wrist from Jon. He had given it to her when they were fifteen, after she had gotten a cut on her arm practising knife play. He’d had Micken make an intricate pattern with silver and steel across the wide wristband. It bent just enough to allow for sizing on her wrist. She hadn’t worn it in some time, between Jon leaving, the war, and everything after she felt as though keeping it on only served to remind her of what she could not, and for a time should not, desire. Now, however, she unrolled the amber dress and removed the strap. She closed it around her wrist and bound the straps.   
She finished packing within another hour and changed into her riding habit, wanting to check that it needed no restitching or patches. The clothes were fine, her boots a different story. She slipped on a pair of slipper-like shoes, borrowed and resized from Melisandre, and picked up both pairs of leather boots. As she made for the door, a scratching came from outside. A soft thud then served as a knock.   
“Ghost?” Aurelia said softly.   
A single paw scratch confirmed and she set the boots down. She opened the door to see the direwolf standing before her, and Jon behind.   
“Lord commander,” she nodded, pushing away the lump in her throat.   
“Stannis told me,” Jon said, a knot seeming to form in his throat as he nearly choked on the words.  
“You knew this would come,” she said softly.   
“Not now,” Jon hissed. “And alone? From here to the Hearth so soon after… after…”  
“Battle and the like,” she finished for him.   
Jon’s eyes darkened. “Yes.”  
“Jon, please.”  
The tone in her voice caused his eyes to soften. “May I come in, my lady?”  
“I would like nothing more, but I was just going to take my boots to get repaired.” She turned and picked on up, showing Jon the damage. “They rather need it, and the sooner the better. If you have time, perhaps I could come to your chambers later to…”  
“Listen to my requests regarding the Watch to see if there is any help the Northmen can provide.”  
“Yes,” she nodded, near tears.   
“Ghost, stay,” Jon commanded, and slipped past the direwolf and into her room. He shut the door and pulled her into his arms, his lips on hers sending warmth through her body.   
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered.   
“You’re leaving in the morning,” Jon said between caresses. “I don’t care about shouldn’t anymore.”  
“You should,” she said pointedly, slipping from his arms. “Jon, you are Lord Commander now. Everything you do will be watched. Moreso because of Stannis, and the tension with the wildlings, and because there are those here who’d rather see your face in the dirt than listen to your orders. You cannot give them any reason to distrust you.”  
“You think I don’t know that? And I have to do it alone. Without a maester, without Sam, without you.”  
He almost choked on the final words and she stepped forward into his embrace.   
“My love, you are not alone,” she whispered. “Not anymore. Look.” She pulled back and lifted her hand, showing him the band around her wrist.   
Jon took her hand in his, turning it to look at the band. “You haven’t worn that since before I left for the Wall, have you?”  
She shook her head. “No. But I will wear it now. Always.”  
Jon looked at her and smiled softly. “What have I of yours?”  
Aurelia blushed and he leaned in and kissed her. His hand slid down to her hip, pulling their bodies closer. She wound her hand up along his shoulder, then into his hair, encouraging him. He kissed her deeply, then trailed his lips down her neck, tugging open the laces on her fur vest. His hands slid beneath her tunic, up to the tops of her breasts exposed above her stays. His lips traveled back to her mouth, playfully licking her bottom lip.  
“This arrangement is inconvenient,” he snarled.   
Aurelia tugged on his hair to bring his gaze to hers. “May I come to you tonight?”  
“If you leave off a few layers,” Jon smiled.  
Aurelia glared and he chuckled. He kissed her softly, then pulled back, his face serious. “I want to spend every moment I can with you. Please come tonight. Two hours after supper.”  
Aurelia nodded. “I have to breakfast with Stannis in the morning, but I will stay as long as I can.”  
“Forever,” Jon whispered.  
“In my heart, yes,” she replied before pulling him back to her lips. He wrapped his arms around her as they kissed, then lifted her and spun around, placing her back on the floor facing toward the door.   
Jon pulled back, sighing. “Tonight, then.”  
Aurelia nodded. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “My lady,” he smiled. And without waiting for her reply, he tugged open the door behind him and turned, striding out into the crisp air. Ghost had been laying outside the door and sprung to his feet. He looked at Aurelia for a moment until Jon’s voice called him away. The direwolf huffed, but turned and followed his master. Aurelia moved to the doorway, watching Jon and Ghost stride across the courtyard. Already his carriage was different; his shoulders pressed back, his head raised, his stride confident. He was a leader now, and yet the man she was with last night was so much more. She stepped back inside and closed the door, sighing as she turned to pick up her boots. What could he be if he were truly free? And what could she do to bring the possibility of such a future? As much as leaving him pained her, she knew the answer lay beyond the Wall, and staying here only endangered his position. They were stronger together, always had been, but now they could only be themselves when alone with each other… or apart.


	15. Chapter 15

Aurelia took the boots to the armory. She felt some guilt after everything the men of the Watch had been through asking for her boots to be repaired, but she knew Stannis would have a much colder request should he need to make one, so she went herself. The men were quite happy to help her, and she offered her thanks.   
“Ain’t really no issue, m’lady,” one of them said to her. “After all that’s jus’ happened, leather is one thing we still got a lot of. Pulling it off our men and the wildlings -- only wish we’d stripped some sooner afore we had to burn ‘em. Also,” he added with a wink, “it ain’t often we get to work on boots as fine as these what belong to a true lady.”  
Aurelia smiled. “Well, I thank you again for your help. These will be ready in the morning?”  
“Aye, m’lady. Good as new.” He smiled, his few missing teeth a point of honor, and Aurelia smiled back.   
As she left, she heard the men whisper and cackle and knew another reason she had to leave before she or Jon revealed their true bond. The men were afraid of Melisandre, and to an extent of Stannis. They respected Aurelia and her position, but for how long? And if they knew their Lord Commander had -- no, she needed to leave, and whatever Stannis’ reasons for sending her now, they were for this reason if no other, well timed.   
Yet the ache in her chest whenever she thought of leaving Jon did not lessen throughout the day. By the time she dressed to meet him after dinner, she was near tears. She pulled herself together with a few deep breaths, smoothing her hands over her dress. She had put the dress from the morning on again, as well as her simple stays, the heftier ones having been packed away. She braided her hair loosely, letting the end fall over her shoulder, then pulled on her cloak and fastened it before blowing out the candles. Once in the yard, she moved purposefully, but slowly, glancing about at the men working and practising in the torchlight, as well as Stannis’ guards milling about. No one paid her much mind as she moved up the stairs and toward the Lord Commander’s chambers. Ghost sat outside the door and when he saw her he stood and padded to her, his nose nuzzling her cloak. She stroked the fur on his head, then scratched behind one ear. The direwolf made a sound almost like a sigh, then moved around her and nudged her but with his nose.   
“Alright,” she whispered, almost giggling. “I’m going.”  
She rapped on the door and Jon was there almost instantly. He was dressed in a tunic and leather vest, the laces removed. His broad chest heaved a deep breath as he drank her in. She gave him a curtsey.   
“Lord commander, you wished to see me.”  
He held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her inside. Jon cast a glance at Ghost who came inside. Jon closed and locked the door, turning back to Aurelia as Ghost settled beside the door.   
His eyes locked on hers and his chest moving with his breaths. He stepped to her and Aurelia inexplicably took a step back. Jon stopped. His eyes brightened and he smiled.   
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I must have looked like I was going to devour you.”  
“For a moment there I did think you and Ghost had switched places,” she smiled back.  
Jon’s face shifted, his look unreadable. “What makes you say that?”  
“Nothing. Only, he seemed playful at the door, happy and eager to see me and you, well… Why do you look so concerned?”  
“I’ve seen through his eyes,” Jon said softly. “I can’t explain it, but I’ve been inside him.”  
“Warging,” Aurelia replied.   
“How did you--”  
“I know the stories Old Nan told as well as you do,” she smiled. “And have you seen my red shadow? The woman sees visions in fires and believes Stannis is a reincarnated prophet, or demi god, or whatever it is she believes. And--” She stopped herself, shaking her head.  
Jon moved to her, taking her hand and leading her toward the fire. “What is it?”  
“During the war, there were stories building up about Robb. The Young Wolf, they called him. Some said he would ride into battle on Greywind’s back. Some said he inhabited the soul of a wolf himself or transformed into one during night battles. Tall tales which helped stoke fear in the Lannister men, mostly but…” She drifted, and Jon took both her hands.   
“Tell me,” he murmured.   
“There were a few times, right after a battle, I could see it in his eyes. Robb and Greywind were connected. He never lost himself in the battle, but sometimes Greywind did, and I could see that in Robb’s eyes. Like he felt the kills, knew the taste of blood. One night he asked me to hold him and not let go until I felt his heartbeat slow to normal. It was pounding in his chest, so fast I thought it might burst. I tried to send for a nurse but he said it would do no good, that he just needed me close, that I calmed him.”  
“I know,” Jon cut in. Aurelia looked up at him. “I know those feelings. I’ve felt Ghost when he’s killed, sometimes when I sleep, other times… and I know what it is to need you close. I know that better than anyone.”  
Aurelia pulled him into her arms. Jon wrapped his arms around her waist and clung to her. Even through her heavy cloak she felt his heartbeat, pounding.   
“Are you afraid of me?” Jon asked, his face buried in her shoulder.   
“No,” she said firmly. “No, my love. Not of you, or of Ghost. Never.”  
Jon eased out from her embrace, his eyes searching hers for doubt. Seeing none, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. His hands moved swiftly, undoing the clasp on her cloak and pushing it off her shoulders to drop on the floor. One hand moved down the front of her dress, squeezing one breast as the other hand wrapped around her waist. He shifted to lift her and Aurelia pulled back.   
“Wait,” she said, bowing her head. “There is something else.”  
“It can wait,” Jon said, pulling her into his arms again.   
“No,” Aurelia said firmly. “It cannot.”  
Jon let her slip from his arms and she took a step back. Ghost gave a small grumble in the corner, rose, and did a few turns before laying down in front of the door. Aurelia watched him before turning back to Jon.   
“What is it?”  
“I’m leaving you here with her,” Aurelia said softly. “She wants something from you… or expects it, I’m not sure which.”  
“Melisandre?” He murmured.   
She nodded. “She’s seen things she will not tell me, but…” Aurelia took a deep breath, drawing her gaze up to look Jon in the eye. “Last night, she told me to come to you. She wanted me to try and convince you to take Stannis’ offer, to see what might bend you to the point of breaking your oath, to seduce you if necessary.”  
“She knows,” Jon hissed.   
“I don’t know how much, but she knows your desire for me, physically, and mine for you. Beyond that… but I didn’t Jon. Everything I said last night, everything that happened, that was not her will nor her influence. I would have left this room had you not stopped me. Part of me still thinks I should have, and I don’t know now what she will try with you once I’m gone.”  
“Then she knows of last night, that we--”  
“Yes,” Aurelia replied. “That much she knows, but she thinks I did it for her, for her plans dictated by her God. I didn’t, though. Jon, I would never do that to you.”  
“Seduce me?”  
“Betray you, or our bond.”  
Jon stepped forward, placing a hand on her hip. “What about seduction?”  
Aurelia stared at him, his gaze full of passion. “You’re not angry with me?”  
“I know you love me, Aurelia. I trust you with my life, and much more. And I want you to trust that while we are apart I will do nothing to betray you, or us. To Melisandre or anyone. If we do not trust one another, how can we be together when we must be apart?”  
Tears welled in Aurelia’s eyes, and Jon reached his hand up, his finger catching the first one that fell. “I have my duty as Lord Commander, my loyalty to the Watch, and I will see them done, but I will not lose you again, not to Melisandre and her schemes, not to Stannis and his bid for the seven kingdoms, not to the old gods or the new. You are mine, as I am yours. Do you not feel that?”  
Aurelia nodded, words catching in her throat. “I would not -- your oath -- your duty, I understand it. I respect it, and you, always. But --”  
“I love you,” Jon cut in. “I know that it is in essence a betrayal of my oath, but I will not deny it, not to you. I loved Ygritte,” he said sadly, guiding Aurelia toward his bed. “I told myself it was for my oath, doing what was necessary, what was commanded of me, but no one can command another’s heart. I knew it, and still I loved her.”   
He sat on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her between his open legs. “That never caused me to stop loving you. Deep within, every oath, every promise I’ve ever made has been shadowed, tainted because when and if the moment is right, I would curse every promise to be with you, properly. And yet if that moment never comes, I will not have you believe anything but the truth, ever. I am yours, and have always been, and will never cease to be. If the same is not true for you, I will accept it, but if it is--”  
Jon’s words were cut off by her lips. She pressed herself to him, causing them both to fall back on the bed. Jon wrapped his arms around her and turned them over, his body pressing against hers. He pulled back, his hands pinning hers down as he gazed at her.   
“I love you,” he said again. “And I’ll say it again a thousand times before tonight is over. Only tell me again what you feel, please.”  
“I am yours,” Aurelia replied. “Always.”  
Jon smiled and Aurelia raised her head. When their lips met, he pressed his body against her again. Shifting to their sides, he ran his hand along the curves on her side, slowly pulling up her dress each time he slid his hands up. When the material had gathered at the top of her thigh, he slipped his hand beneath the fabric, his fingers teasing near her tender flesh. She moaned into his mouth when a finger ran along her slit.   
Jon smiled, easing her onto her back as he kissed his way down her neck, her chest, her stomach. She tugged on her dress, and he helped pull it up, over her hips, then chest, then arms. As she tossed it aside, Jon dove between her legs, his lips and tongue caressing every part of her sensitive, moist lips. Aurelia wound her fingers in his hair, trembling at his explorations and moaning each time his tongue connected with her bud. He worked her to the brink before kissing back up to her chest, his hands firmly placed on her hips as her body ached and pressed up for his touch. When he reached her lips, she greedily took his kisses, her hunger causing him to moan. She wrapped her legs around his waist and used her thighs to flip them over, straddling his waist. She raised herself up, her hands pressed against his chest, smiling. She rocked her hips against him and he moaned again, feeling his straining cock press against her through the fabric and leather. She shifted her hands and began undoing the laces on her stays. Jon pulled off his vest and shirt, then helped her pull the last of the laces loose and tugged the corset over her head.   
Aurelia winked as her hands moved to his waist, unlacing his breeches. She slid her hand inside, taking the swollen head of his cock in her fingers and gently massaging it.   
Jon’s head fell back on the bed, as he gasped. “Lia,” he moaned. “I need you.”  
“You have me,” she said softly, the smile never leaving her face.   
“Now,” Jon growled, raising himself on his elbows.   
“I was going to treat you as you treated me,” she said, licking her lips.   
Jon shook his head. “Your mouth brought me much pleasure last night. I want your lips on mine now. I need to be inside you. Please.”  
His pleading caused her smile to fade. She eased off his hips, her hands going to slide his trousers off. Jon tugged them down, kicking them off and rolling to his side. He gazed at her for a moment before leaning in to kiss her.   
“Take me,” he breathed, pulling her back on top of him. She straddled him again, his hands resting on her hips. He moved one up to caress her breast, rubbing a nipple with his thumb.   
Aurelia moaned, easing her hips down, sliding along his length. He slickness coated him and he moaned softly. She rocked her hips back and forth, her hands pressing his shoulders. Jon moved both hands to her hips, gripping them.   
“Please,” he murmured.   
Aurelia slid up along his length again, then tilted her pelvis back. As she moved down, he slid into her. She moved one hand to guide him in further, then ran her hand up his chest. She moved slow at first, her hips rocking before she started to bounce up and down. Jon shifted his hands to clasp hers, their fingers interlocked as she increased her pace. His hips began thrusting upward to meet her. As their rhythm steadied, he moved his hands, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. He kissed her again and again, his hands running up her back and fisting in her hair. He pulled her braid loose, winding his fingers through the strands. Aurelia kept one hand on his shoulder, helping to keep their pace steady. Her other ran through his hair, along his cheek, holding his neck, clinging to and caressing him as their bodies moved together.   
Jon slowed his pace, his lips moving to her neck. “Turn around for me,” he said softly, nibbling her ear. Aurelia slid off, moving to get on her hand and knees.   
“No,” Jon said, taking her around the waist. He turned her body around, wrapping his arm up to her chest and pressing them together. He held her for a moment, kissing her neck, then bringing his hand up and turning her head back to capture her lips. As they kissed, his other hand moved between them and he guided back into her. He lifted her leg, draping it over his as he started to move inside her again. His fingers massaged her, worked her to a peak again before he moved his hand to her breasts. She moaned his name, her lips caressing his neck, sucking on the taut skin as his pace increased.   
“Jon,” she murmured. “You’re teasing me.”  
He gave a deep throaty laugh. “Never, my love. Just say the word.” He shifted his hand to lift her face to his and kissed her.   
A moment later, she said the word, and they peaked together, his lips covering hers to stifle their cries as she shuddered in his arms and he exploded within her. As they faded into a calmer bliss, Jon moved the hand which had steadied her leg to the top of her mound. He rubbed gently, yet teasingly.   
“Jon,” she chided between kisses. “Teasing.”  
“Preparing,” he murmured in reply.   
She felt him twitch inside her and she smiled. “Then don’t stop.”  
He turned them both, Aurelia beneath him as he slipped out of her. Their lips and fingers danced over each other until he was ready again, and then they united their bodies again, and again, until the pale light of dawn began to peek through the latched windows.


	16. Chapter 16

Aurelia sighed as she stretched in the bed, Jon’s arm draped over her stomach. His fingers traced along her waist and under her breast.   
“I love you,” he sighed.   
She had lost track of how many times he said it during the night, and each time it sounded perfect. Never forced or placating, he always uttered the words in pure truth.   
“I have to go,” she choked, feeling her tears well up. She made to shift out of bed and his arm snaked around her, firm and resolved.  
“No.”  
“Jon--”  
“I do not doubt your strength, love. Do not fear to show me when you are weak.” His voice trembled and Aurelia turned to face him. Tears brimmed in his eyes as well. She shifted forward, sliding her hands behind his head. Their lips pressed together and Aurelia felt the sting of hot tears on her cheeks. Not knowing whose they were, and not caring, she let herself be enveloped in his embrace, taking note of each touch. Every brush of their fingers, every caress of lips and tongue, every whisper and moan she recorded in her mind.   
Finally, Ghost began scratching at the door and they parted. Jon pulled her into his arms, once again murmuring, “I love you.”  
“And I you,” she said. “Always.”  
He let her slip from his arms and out of the bed. She pulled her dress on again, then moved to the chair by the fireplace and picked up her cloak. She gathered her stays and laces off the floor, tucking them against her side. Jon watched her from the bed, his eyes glistening. When she reached the door she glanced down to Ghost, then back at Jon. He nodded.   
“Be careful,” he called as she opened the door.  
“And you,” she replied, casting him a final look over her shoulder as she slipped out of his rooms.   
She moved quickly to her room, rebuilding the fire and heating water as she stripped and secured the last of her belongings. She wiped herself down with a cloth soaked in the water, her hand trembling throughout. Once dressed, she braided her hair tightly, rolled up the dress from last night, secured her cloak around herself again, and left her room for Stannis’ place in the tower.   
She was quiet during breakfast as Stannis gave her some instruction, requests, and a small satchel of letters for the Umbers and other northern lords should she meet them. She listened, and ate, and drank, but her thoughts never drifted from Jon. Toward the end of her meal she glanced at Melisandre who gave a soft, knowing smile and Aurelia felt a tremor course through her. She feared leaving Jon, but mostly she feared leaving him with her, knowing Stannis would not linger much longer. Once the meal was over, Melisandre rose from her chair and moved around behind Stannis and Aurelia to sit beside her. She placed a hand over Aurelia’s and smiled.   
“My young friend, I will greatly miss your company.”  
“And I your counsel, my lady,” Aurelia replied.  
“Indeed, I hope you will remember our conversations once we are parted, and help in leading the northern lords to the lord of light.”  
“I can make no assurances there, but I will do what I can to speak for His Grace.” She looked to Stannis. “With winter coming, men will look to leadership from other men prepared to face the cold, and solutions to problems rooted in their survival and prosperity through the winter.”  
“And that is what I will provide as their king,” Stannis replied firmly. “With their support and fealty in defeating our enemies.”  
“The darkness,” Melisandre said softly. They both glanced to her. Aurelia looked back to Stannis for his reaction.   
“And hunger, and raiding, and the cold.” He looked pointedly to Aurelia. “And the Lannisters.”  
“Yes, Your Grace.”  
Stannis huffed, not quite a sigh but close. “I would not send you if I had another option, but you are my best resource for bringing the north into the fold. This is the path that has been chosen for me: to take my kingdom from the top downward.” His eyes searched hers briefly before continuing. “There are few whose loyalty is as essential as it is… appreciated.”  
“I will do what I can.”  
Stannis nodded. “I know.”  
“It is time I was on my way, Your Grace, if you will excuse me.”  
He gazed at her again, then gave a wave of his hand. “Indeed. Send word when you are able.”  
“And you, Your Grace, if necessary.”  
“I shall.”  
Aurelia rose and curtseyed to him, then to Melisandre. “Farewell, lady Melisandre.”  
“And you, lady Moors.”  
Aurelia nodded and left the hall, trying to hold in her emotions. Once outside, she made for the stables where her horse had been prepared by Jon’s new steward. She packed away the tokens and letters from Stannis and was checking the tightness of the straps on the saddle when she heard footsteps behind her.  
“You must let me see you to the gate, my lady.”  
Aurelia flinched before turning around. “As you will, Lord commander.”  
He took a step forward and Aurelia could see the struggle in his eyes. “You leave with the most precious… you must take care to--”  
“I will,” she cut in, seeing the tears brimming in his eyes. “And you as well.”  
Jon nodded as Ghost came up and sniffed the horse, then nuzzled Aurelia. She turned to the direwolf and rubbed his head, then behind his ears. She bent down and kissed the top of his head, then laid hers on top of his and whispered, “You look after him.”  
Ghost huffed, and moved a paw on top of her foot until she moved her head. She stood and looked back to Jon who had taken the reins of her horse. “My lady,” he said as he gestured her in front of him.   
The three of them walked in silence toward the gates of the Watch’s small village, the Wall looming above them, starting to weep in the morning sun. Aurelia would not risk taking Jon’s hand as they walked so she placed her hand on Ghost as he padded along beside her.   
Once they reached the gates, two guards opened the massive doors, still being repaired from the wildling battles, the new wood a stark contrast to the dark, weathered beams which had stood for decades without assault. Aurelia and Ghost emerged beyond the gates first, and Jon followed, giving a nod to one of the guards. “I’ll be just a moment making sure she’s on the road safely, then let me back in.”  
“Yes, Lord commander,” the guard replied.   
Jon came outside the gate as the guards closed the doors behind him. Aurelia was looking to the road and beyond as he came up beside her.   
“This will not be our last meeting,” he said softly.   
“It damn well better not be,” she replied, a bit of sharpness in her tone. She looked to Jon and he smiled, causing one to break across her features as well.   
“Travel safe, my lady,” he said, taking her hand.  
“Be safe, Lord commander,” she said as she moved closer to him. She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, lingering. “Do not trust her, but keep her close. Whatever her wishes, she bears you better will than most around you,” she whispered.  
“Don’t marry an Umber,” he whispered back, then kissed her cheek.  
“I’d sooner marry Stannis,” she smiled as she stepped back from him.   
They locked their gazes on one another for a brief moment before mouthing their final proclamations to each other.   
Jon squeezed her hand, then placed the reins in it.  
“Until we meet again, Lady Aurelia.”  
She mounted her horse, then pushed back her cloak, and the sleeve of her coat. The cuff Jon gave her glinted as a ray of sun hit it and she smiled down at him. She gave the horse a quick dig and it began trotting away. Ghost trailed after her as she moved along the road until Jon called him back. He reluctantly returned and Jon cast one final glance at Aurelia. “Please come back to me,” he murmured, then turned back to the gate and gave it a good thump.


	17. Chapter 17

The journey to Last Hearth was a slog. The weather grew harsher, yet Aurelia coped fine with the cold and occasional blowing snow. However, the further she plodded from the Wall, the more she felt herself slip into a chilled despair. Not only did the pain of leaving Jon, once again unknowing of when they would meet again, sting her to the core, she could not help revisiting memories of Robb and the Greatjon and his heir. Her horse kept her counsel during the long days and dark nights, providing small solace to her lamentations.  
On the last night of her trek, Aurelia stretched out by her small fire, the horse tied across from her a few more paces away. She nibbled on salt beef and hard biscuits with the last of her berries as she watched the crackling light.  
“We’re still little closer than before to our goal,” she sighed. “And yet how could we be any closer? That oath… he cannot break it, and it provides so little room for bending. We may have already bent it as far as it can be…” She chucked a bit of knotty beef in the fire.  
“Stannis offered what Robb did as well, with just as much authority, but fewer men… and the wrong wife. He will not, could not, take Robb’s offer without men to replace him. And where do I get those men?”  
She shook her head, rising and walking toward the horse. She held out the last biscuit and the horse sniffed it, then whorffed it into its mouth. She ran a hand along the horse’s flank and sighed.  
“Men matter not. Not yet. The oath cannot be bent this far, not without… Is this all we were meant for? A taste of our truest desires and then nothing? What is there left for us if that is all we are destined to have?”  
She moved back to her place by the fire and settled down to rest. Her sleep was fitful, her mind full of too many thoughts, too much emotion.  
Back at the Wall, Jon suffered as well. He tended to his duties, had meetings with members of the Watch and Stannis, did his best to focus on the path ahead, yet whenever he was left alone, even for a few moments, he felt an internal pull towards a different path.  
Loyalty to his duty as Lord Commander held him in check, but he could not help wondering, what if Stannis had offered Aurelia, and not Val, in exchange for his betrayal of the Night’s Watch oath? Could he give up his honor for a life with her? Winterfell and legitimacy were desires he long held, but never believed he could achieve and after Robb’s death the offer of either from some other king felt hollow, no matter how much the Watch lay indebted to Stannis. But Aurelia? The gods could have everything, but not her. If anything could brand him a true traitor to the Watch and his oath, she was it. And the gods were cruel in their torment, to place her within reach once again, to feel her united with him, body and spirit, and then pull her away again. He had so much to say to her, to be with her, and once again no way for them to be together. His duty now held him as hers once had. Was this to be their fate?  
Jon shook his head, trying to clear it for the hundreth time of such thoughts. He moved through the main courtyard, watching the newer recruits train, wishing he could join the fray.  
_Fighting is far easier than leading_ , he thought with a sigh.  
“Lord commander,” the soldier’s voice snapped Jon out of his malaise.  
“Yes?”  
“The lady Melisandre desires your council,” the young man said, as though such a request should be expected.  
Jon nodded. The red woman had watched him from a distance for days. “I will see her momentarily.”  
The soldier blinked, as though he had expected Jon to simply follow him, but then nodded. “I will let her know. She is in the the king’s solar.” He backed away as Jon heard the soft pad of Ghost’s paws approaching from behind. The soldier turned and left, leaving Jon to scratch behind Ghost’s ears.  
“What do you suppose she wants?”  
Ghost huffed.  
“Lia didn’t know either. I guess it’s time to find out.”


	18. Chapter 18

Aurelia’s welcome to Last Hearth was less cold but more conflicting than she had prepared for -- even after two nights, the Umbers sat at odds with one another as much as with any suggestion that they choose a definitive side. She understood their plight, yet it was difficult seeing a once trusted group of allies hold such uncertainty. On her third day, she found out why.   
One of the Smalljon’s daughters, a girl of eleven, came to Aurelia’s room before the midday meal with tears in her eyes.   
“What is it, young one?” Aurelia asked when the girl appeared at her door, sniffling. The girl wiped the back of her sleeve across her eyes, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, my lady it’s just--” The girl huffed again, and Aurelia could see her fighting back another barrage of tears.   
“Come in,” Aurelia gestured to her guest chambers and the girl shuffled inside. Her name was Melan, but her family called her Pippa. Closing the door behind them, Aurelia studied the girl. She was smaller than Aurelia remembered Arya being at that age, carrying a heavy weight on her with a family destroyed by war, her father being one major casualty.   
“Come sit by the fire and tell me what’s wrong,” Aurelia said softly.  
“I shouldn’t,” she shook her head. “My great nuncles will be angry at me for knowing.”  
Aurelia gave her a small, knowing smile. “Women learn many things in the company of men they’d rather we not know. It’s part of their punishment for ignoring our council and abilities.”  
Pippa coughed and inched toward Aurelia. “Will you keep it secret?”  
“So long as the secret keeping does not endanger a good person, of course.”  
“No, just bad people,” Pippa declared in a harsh whisper.  
“As bad as the Freys?”  
“Near as,” Pippa spat, then wiped her mouth on her dress.  
“Well, seeing as you’re calming down, why don’t we sort it out together, hmm?”  
Aurelia moved toward the fire and the girl followed. She looked to Pippa again, the girl’s hair a mess of curls pulled back against her head and pinned tightly in a bun.   
“You know what?” Aurelia said, reaching for her comb sitting on a table near the fireplace within easy reach of her tub.   
“What?” Pippa asked, eyeing her.   
“I bet you have lovely curls, but they seem always to be pulled back tightly. Why not let them breathe?”  
Pippa shrugged. “No one knows what to do with them. Most of the ladies in my family have straight hair.”  
Aurelia knelt on a large eplt before the fire. “Time you learned for yourself then, hmm? Come sit here and tell me what you heard, and I’ll reshape your hair into something practical, easy, and better suited to you. What do you say?”  
Pippa studied Aurelia’s hair for a moment, as if deciding whether or not the older girl could help her. Then she sighed and plopped down in front of Aurelia. Aurelia made a twirling motion with her finger, and Pippa turned to face away from her. As Aurelia began pulling pins out of Pippa’s hair and setting them on the rug, Pippa sighed.   
“They keep saying they won’t fight each other, that we can’t fight Umber against Umber, but they won’t stop yelling at each other.”  
“That’s what men do sometimes.” Aurelia unwound the tight bun. “When they’re upset they tend not to cry but to yell or hit, sometimes both, sometimes neither. Others are silent, and that can be more dangerous. Roaring means they’re releasing frustration. Still, it’s unsettling, I know.” She started running her comb through the girl’s hair, smoothing her fingers along behind on the ringlets.  
“It’s not their fault,” Pippa sniffed. “The fighting. They’re scared.”  
“And that scares you.”  
Pippa nodded.  
“These are scary times.”  
Pippa turned her head back toward Aurelia. “Do you want to go back to war?”  
Aurelia turned Pippa’s head back. “Face forward. And no, I don’t. Few people want war in their life, particularly after they experience it.”  
“Lord Bolton does,” Pippa said softly.  
“Is that what your uncles fought about?”  
Pippa shrugged. “He wants them to go to a wedding. His son is marrying some highborn girl. I didn’t hear who. Nuncle Hother says the men should go, support the new Warden of the North. Nuncle Mors wants to fight. He said the Boltons are just as guilty as the Freys in killing my father and capturing granddad. Worse even.”  
Aurelia had begun twisting the girl’s hair up in sections and pinning it in place on the top of her head. “Worse how?”  
“They say Lord Roose killed King Robb, stabbed him through the chest. And if he’d do that to his liege lord, his king, he would do it to anyone. But Hother says they have no choice. They have to support him. How can they support someone so wicked?”  
“Because they’re afraid. They’re trying to preserve their family.”  
“But if they don’t trust him, how can they pretend it?”  
“Family means a great deal, you know that, yes?”  
“Yes.”  
“It’s harder to let go of that notion the older some people get. Loyalties can be broken and reforged and even faked for the sake of family.” Aurelia curled tendrils around her fingers, letting each one fall after holding it a few seconds.   
“Why not just fight the Boltons? Winterfell is a ruin and many people hate them.”  
“You know the saying of house Stark?”  
“Winter is coming.”  
“It’s truer now than most times. A war in winter bodes well for no one if it is not swift. The Boltons are now allied with the Lannisters and no fighting with them will be swift.”  
“And what about King Stannis? Would a war be swift fighting for him?”  
“It may be, depending on how many join him, and how many join the Boltons, or the ironborn.”  
“Why did you join him?”  
“He saved me when he could have killed me, or held me as a hostage. He saved my friends at the Wall. And he’ll do better trying to repair the north than anyone else who seems to want it right now.”  
“Did you love king Robb?”  
The question struck Aurelia. She inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?”  
“He was your king, and your betrothed once, yes?”  
“He was.”  
“Did you love him?”  
“Turn around.” The girl complied, scooting around the face Aurelia. She played with a few strands of Pippa’s hair. “You’ll learn one day that marriage pacts often have little to do with love, as does fealty to your lord or king. And there are many kinds of love. But,” she sighed, “Robb was my friend since childhood. I may not have loved him as a wife should, or as a loyal subject does their royal leader, but yes, I loved him. Very much.”  
“Do you love Stannis?”  
A smile broke Aurelia’s features. “No. But I trust him. I trust his word, and I trust that he wants what’s best for the north, for all of us. And trust is something to be valued as much as love, if not more.”  
Pippa stared at her for a moment, processing as Aurelia pulled a small section of hair from behind Pippa’s ear, letting it fall alongside her face.   
“There. All done.” Aurelia rose and went to take the small mirror from the table where she replaced the comb. “Do you like it?”  
Pippa reached for the mirror and studied herself, turning her head from side to side.  
“Is it too tight?”  
“No,” Pippa replied. “It feels fine. I like it. It’s different than my sister’s, or mother’s.”  
“It’s easy to do. If you want I’ll show you with my hair.”  
“Later, yes please. I was supposed to come get you for the midday meal. I just -- what will we say?”  
“That I wanted a doll to play with for a few minutes?” Aurelia smiled.  
Pippa laughed. “I wouldn’t believe that of you. I could say I asked you to, though.”  
“You won’t get in trouble?”  
“Not if you tell them it was all right.”  
“Of course it’s all right. Talking to men all the time gets boring. Let’s go eat, hmm?”  
Pippa set the mirror on the table, then reached out her hand toward Aurelia. “I like you, lady Moors.”  
Aurelia clasped the girl’s hand and they walked toward to the door. “I like you too, little one.”  
“I’m going to tell nuncle Mors I like you. Nuncle Hother, too, but I don’t think he’ll listen much. They don’t want to fight each other, but they already are.”  
“Well, let’s see what we can do about that,” Aurelia smiled.


	19. Chapter 19

“You do what you must, Lord Hother,” Aurelia sighed. “The decisions we make now will lead us through our futures.” She took another sip of ale as Hother and Mors stared one another down. When they weren’t staring, they were roaring, and when they weren’t doing either of those, they were eating or grumbling.

“Precisely what I am saying, Lady Moors,” Mors said, punctuating his stance by slamming down his tankard and slopping foam on the table. “Which is why we should fight.”

Hother opened his mouth and Aurelia held up her hand. “Forgive me for interjecting, my lords, but this is getting us nowhere. I understand both your perspectives.”

“Do you?” Hother snapped.

Aurelia gave him a look and his eyes grew wide before he reached for his own tankard, taking a gulp of ale with all the sullenness of a scolded child.

“As I have said,” Aurelia continued. “I understand the struggles and indignities your house has suffered, and the challenges which lie ahead. What I am trying to fathom is why any man would believe it necessary to put his cowardice on display.”

She looked again to Hother, daring him to comment. A small chortle escaped Mors’ mouth before he stuffed a chunk of dark bread in it. Aurelia shifted her gaze to him.

“Or why anyone would run headlong into another battle without considering all his options.”

“You’re a better diplomat than a war counselor, my lady,” Hother remarked. “Though better at either than I would have thought.”

“Underestimating others’ manipulative abilities is what let to the present circumstances,” Aurelia clipped.

Both men nearly choked on the drinks they had again taken large gulps of.

“For the time being, you both seem to be locked into your ideas that, while dividing your house, may not lead to fighting your own. I understand your reasons and accept them, for now.”

“For now?” Hother murmured.

Aurelia nodded. “Stannis needs support in order to win the North, and then the rest of the kingdom. That means uniting against the ironborn as well as the Boltons and Lannisters, a tactic which will only work with full support. And yet I know that unlike some houses, you have a vested interest in not blatantly supporting Stannis, or anyone except the Lannisters. Aligning yourself with them seems, in some ways, the only option aside from fighting with Stannis.”

“Are you suggesting there is another option?” Hother had leaned back in his chair, watching her speak. Mors had resumed munching away at bread and meat, but kept attuned to her.

“Not immediately, but there may be soon. An option which I hope will find a happier union between the two current extremes, and lead to a better outcome.”

“What do you require to make such an outcome occur?”

“Eventually, men and arms, and alliances. At the moment, your trust in me that this third option is in your best interest and the best interest of the North as a realm, and your word to pledge loyalty when the time comes.”

The two men exchanged glances.

“You need not answer this minute, but I will require an answer soon. I plan to depart within two days, and have only one more request to make of you.”

She looked from Mors to Hother and back.

“What is it?” Mors asked after a small burp.

“I need to find Maege Mormont.”

“What makes you think--” Aurelia held up her hand again and Hother quieted. Her gaze never left Mors.

Mors huffed, then nodded.

“This other option,” Hother pressed, “would it involve at any point getting our nephew back?”

“The timing must be precise, but yes.”

“And how do you propose--”

“I cannot divulge any plans now, Lord Hother.” Aurelia interjected, looking back to him. “Something I hope you will understand, if not now, then at least when the time comes for you to swear allegiances again. However, your nephew is of great value not just to this place, but to the North, and his loyalty to Robb Stark should not end the way it has for so many others. If my plan is realized, he will be returned home. And the Lannisters will know the strength of bonds reforged.”

“By the gods,” Mors cackled. “My lady, you sound as if you intend to take them all on.”

Aurelia smiled. “And if I do?”

“We’re not interested in thrones, Lady Moors,” Hother said as quietly as any Umber could, which was just above a murmured growl.

“Nor am I. Not in the least.”

“Then what is it you do want?”

“A home. A place where the affairs of this land are managed by those who understand it and cherish it.”

“And revenge,” Mors added.

He smile broadened, but she did not comment.

“Very well,” Hother said after a brief moment. “Can we give you an answer tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Aurelia said as the smile faded. She rose from the table and both men followed, giving her a small bow. “I’ll see you both tonight for dinner?”

They nodded.

“Very good. Thank you for your time, my lords.”

When she was out of the hall, Aurelia took a deep breath and clenched her hands a few times. When she looked down at them, they trembled. _Hope is not extinguished if they refuse, but will burn brighter should they agree. Please, let them agree._

 


	20. Chapter 20

Aurelia kept herself busy writing letters to send to other Northern lords and being shadowed by Pippa over the next day. The servants reminded her of those she had known growing up, both in her own home and at Winterfell. Having spent most of her time of late in war camps and councils, it felt good to once again be in an actual home. Last Hearth was fortified, and its halls emptier than in years past, but it still held families. Its history and memories could be seen in the groove of stones in corridors, the worn rugs and tapestries in hallways, the soot in fireplaces. The only two places Aurelia ever felt at home were both burned ruins, and being here reminded her of what was possible, what was worth fighting for -- not just for herself and Jon, but for legacy.  
As she walked an empty hallway toward the dining hall, she took her time looking at each object and marking of what made this place a home. She understood the need to protect such a place and its people, even if the responsibility for such had yet to fall on her shoulders. Aurelia entered the dining hall to the sound of laughter and clinking tankards. The lords sat at their table seeming to be in one of the best moods she had seen since her first night of arrival. They were either pleased about something, or drunk, possibly both.   
“Ah, my lady!” Mors cried when he saw her. He and Hother both rose and bowed as she approached the table. She gave a small curtsy, then seated herself as they plopped back down into their chairs.  
“My lords,” she smiled. A mug of ale was placed before her and she reached for it, taking a swig.   
“We have some to a decision,” Hother said with a smile.   
She glanced between them. “Very well.”  
“Don’t look so glum,” Mors said. “You have given us reason to think we may not have to argue anymore.”  
“This scheme of yours,” Hother added, “whatever it is, you take risk in telling us, or anyone. I don’t believe you would do that without trust in the plan, or anyone you choose to tell. We are both weary of waiting, of pandering to some proclaimed new lord or king, but our choices are few. So tell us our loyalty will serve to unite our house again, to reclaim what we can from this bloody war, and we will pledge it to you.”  
She looked to Mors. “Truly?”  
Mors clinked his goblet base gently against hers. “Your family has always been friend to ours, and the Starks have long been as good as wardens as they have our liege lords. If there are no Starks to unite the North again, you are the best hope.”  
She looked from each to each again. “You’re both drunk.”  
“And honest,” Mors said without hesitation.   
“We keep up the pretense,” said Hother. “Jovial one moment, sullen or fighting the next. Just like Umbers do. I go to Bolton; Mors supports Stannis. But we both support you. House Umber supports you.”  
Aurelia nodded. “Thank you.”  
“Now, drink up and see if these two old men can make a pretty girl laugh,” Mors grinned. “For tonight the North is united, in hopes it soon will be again.”  
The smile that crossed Aurelia’s face before she took another the drink was genuine, hopeful. It felt good, and dangerous.

Mors came to her the next morning with a letter. “Raven brought it this morning. I don’t understand it, but something tells me you will.”  
Aurelia thanked him and slipped within her room to read it in private. After scanning it once, she smiled. “Clever woman,” she murmured. “And loyal still.” She tossed the note in the fire and made sure to watch it turn to crumbled black bits. She then dressed, packed, and made her way to the hall to have breakfast and take her leave of Last Hearth. She knew not every encounter with the remaining northern lords and clans would go this well, but it brought small satisfaction to know she wasn’t alone in her desire to rebuild.   
===========================================================  
The weeks spent traveling through the North, winter always dancing on her heels, showed Aurelia some of the best and worst of the land she called home. Returning to the Wall brought more apprehension than relief. What she had planned now could be interpreted as treason against Stannis, to say nothing of the Watch, yet she had to maintain a mask of loyalty to everything but her own desires -- with one exception.


	21. Chapter 21

The Lord Commander strode into Melisandre’s hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Ghost followed at his heels, head held high and strong as his master’s.

“Why did you not inform me of her return?” He demanded of the red woman.

“You have pressing concerns, do you not Lord Commander Snow?” she replied.

Jon glared at her, wondering not for the first time how much she concealed from him not out of deceit, but out of fear over his feelings for Aurelia. He could convince most that their feelings ran deep but merely platonic. The witch and her fires told a different story, and Melisandre clung to the visions in her fires. She had seen Jon and Aurelia together, happy, not at the Wall but a place she would not divulge.

Jon had no expectation of such a desirable future. Yet Melisandre seemed determined not to let this vision come to pass. It caused Jon to question what other visions she actively fought against, and if any of them also involved himself or Aurelia.

“My pressing issues are not for you to prioritize,” he clipped. “Where is she?”

“Resting,” Melisandre replied as she waved a hand near the flames in the pillar which she claimed as the strongest fire for her visions. “Her journey was not an easy one, and as you were unavailable during her arrival I wanted to ensure her comfort.”

Jon nodded, straining. “When she has rested, will you please inform her that I request her presence. If I am not in my chambers I shall be atop the Wall.”

Melisandre gave a small, sad smile. “I will do as you ask, Lord Commander.” Jon started to turn to leave, but the red witch’s voice echoed as she called after him. “Though I should warn you that my fires--”

“Speak not of your fires.” Jon spun on his heels to face her. “No one person can claim all knowledge of the future, nor of any time but the present moment they exist in -- and even that is subject to be colored by their own feelings. All I care to know is that the lady Aurelia has returned safely from her travels and you will pass on my message to her when she rises.”

“As you wish,” Melisandre said calmly.

Jon gave her a curt nod, then left, clenching and releasing his left hand all the way back to his rooms.

Aurelia did not come to him before supper, and he declined dining in the main hall to wait for her in his chambers. When he had finished dining and consumed a cup of mulled wine, he made his way to the top of the Wall, to the spot where he once looked out to the world beyond the Wall with his uncle. She waited for him there.

Ghost trotted up to her with an easy gait and, after sniffing her hand, nuzzled it and panted softly as she moved her hand to scratch behind his ears. Jon approached her, his intended words failing him.

“Are you not cold?” He asked as he moved up beside her, Ghost backing away and sitting on the ice walkway behind her.

“My entire journey was cold,” she replied. “I have grown accustomed to it.”

Jon flexed his hand, wanting to reach out to her yet he held himself in check.

“Is Stannis returning?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. He may not return at all if the weather continues to worsen.”

“What do you mean?”

Aurelia bowed her head. “I tried to warn him. The Northern lords may yet bend themselves to him, for a time at least. But winter is here, in the North, and Stannis is ill-prepared to hold it.”

“Did he release you?”

“From remaining with him, yes. From his service, not really. It’s difficult to communicate such things in letters.” Aurelia raised her head again and gazed out into the darkness of the wilds, a sea of grey as the night wind blew snow around them. “I would not say his cause is lost, but without a decisive battle or better provisions to withstand the onslaught of the weather...”

“And if he loses?” Jon felt rather nonplussed about Stannis’ potential defeat, whether in battle or due to weather.

Aurelia looked to him and replied, “Then Winterfell is lost.”

Jon took a step closer to her, straining to resist pulling her into his arms. “I don’t understand.”

“The Boltons hold Winterfell. They seem intent on rebuilding, but the winter will delay that, if not outright prevent it.”

“I sent Mance--”

“I know,” Aurelia cut in. “And he will likely try to see your request through, coupled with an agenda of his own I’ve no doubt. That is my fear, Jon. All these men, they desire power, over the lands and over each other. Whether they wish to rule an entire kingdom or a small portion of the realm, or simply to take all they can until they are thrown down or die... none of them care for Winterfell as the Starks have. It is a strategic location, a monument, a possible stronghold if it can be rebuilt.”

“And to you?” Jon asked, already knowing her answer.

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes full of words she dared not speak. When she took a step toward him, he relented, folding her into his arms.

“Everywhere you leave, all becomes lost without you,” he murmured. “Winterfell, the north lands, here...” He trailed off and she held him tighter. She pressed her cheek to his chest as he bent his neck and rested his lips on top of her head.

“I cannot stay, Jon,” she said softly.

“Where will you go?”

“Somewhere I should have gone quite a while ago.”

“Where?”

“To find Lord Commander Mormont’s sister.”

Jon pulled away from her, the question lingering in his look.

Aurelia smiled as she reached up and brushed a section of his hair from his face. “She has something of great import which Robb entrusted to her. It is time I sought it out.”

Before Jon could ask what, Aurelia lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him. He responded instinctually and wrapped his arms around her as his mouth devoured hers. His mind fogged over as her lips caressed his and she softly moaned his name. When she pulled back, he cupped her face in his hands.

“Please do not leave me again. I need you... I want you here with me,” he said softly.

Aurelia smiled, sad yet warm. “I will not leave you so soon after returning, but I cannot linger long. We know what we desire, and what cannot be.”  
“Aurelia --” Jon began, but she stepped back and held up a hand.

“The world is changing, Jon. Yet not so much as to reverse events and decisions we have made until now. And yet,” she sighed as she again gazed out beyond the Wall. “If we lose our hold on what is most important to us, if we give up hope, then there is nothing left to fight for.”

She did not look at him, but held her hand out to the side and he took it. Standing beside her, gazing out into the lands of the North, Jon felt a sense of home, and a sense of purpose, he had not known for quite some time. He heard Maester Aemon’s voice echo in his head. _Love is the death of duty._

_But what if love truly is your duty?_ His mind questioned back.

“If there is a way,” he whispered. “We will find it.”

Aurelia squeezed his hand and Jon smiled.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read through ADWD, I advise you to stop reading now. 
> 
> Really. 
> 
> Stop.
> 
> Read the books first.
> 
> Spoilers abound.
> 
> For those who've read, I hope my development and speculation going forward isn't any worse than D&D's.

Jon had told her of his plans after receiving Ramsay's letter, and Aurelia was called to the rookery while on her way to see queen Selyse regarding those plans. She detoured to the tower, ascending with apprehensive steps. Arriving, she found no one there, but a short stack of sealed notes with her name on them sat on the edge of the large writing desk.

The ravens qworked as she gathered the parchments in her hand. She shuffled quickly down to the area where her room sat, nestled in barracks between the queen's residence and Melisandre's. Once inside her rooms, she studied each note before opening it. One was from Stannis, one from White Harbor, and one from a hand she did not recognize. She opened and scanned the missive from Stannis. It was a follow up to his intentions which Jon had showed her already. He asked for her to join him once he took Winterfell from the Boltons.

"If that happens, Your Grace," she murmured, "I'll need some new plans."

She opened the letter from White Harbor and read it, then reviewed it again. It was written in an elder speech of the northern waters, something her parents taught her as a child and which only a handful of people spoke. Lord Manderly knew this of her and thus sent his missives in this manner. Aurelia's recollection of the language was a bit hazy, but strong enough to make out the major details. One in particular which was of significant import.

The next letter was written in the same dialect and she realized soon the hand was Maege Mormont's, but not all the words were hers. As she read, she could hear men's voices in the distance, but focused harder on her message. Each word held import for her future plans and knowledge. She sat before the fire, tuned into the crackling of flames, memorizing the message in whole. When she could recite it three times through without error, she tossed all the notes in the fire. As they crackled black, there was a knock at her door.

She rose and moved to open it. Melisandre stood before her.

"Lady Moors, I have need of you. All have need of you."

"What do you mean?"

"There is much to tell, but for now time is essential and you must not panic."

"Panic about what?" Suddenly the noise she had blocked out flooded her ears and she felt her head begin to throb. "What's happened?"

* * *

"Jon," she called in the darkness, and he heard her as though in a dream. He had slipped into Ghost but her voice pulled him back. He had wanted to go. In the minutes of pain, betrayal, and blackness, he was ready to let it swallow him whole. He forgot her.  _Not again_ , his mind screamed.  _You do not ever forget her again._

He thought all feeling had left him, but he felt her hands raise his head, her tears hot on his cheeks as she cradled him.

"Not now," she said softly. "You cannot leave me now. There is so much - Jon you have to fight. For us. For - for your family. They are not all gone, Jon. We can bring them home. We can have a home, together. They need you. The realm needs you. And my love I need you. But you have to fight. Please."

Her soft lips brushed against his cold ones. "Please come back to me."

Voices scattered in his mind, distant, and he faded again. This time when he slipped into Ghost it did not feel like an escape. It felt like a renewal.

* * *

Aurelia raced down the corridors, tears streaming down her face. She burst into Melisandre's chambers.

"I know," Melisandre said before Aurelia had drawn a breath to explain. "He does not have much time."

"He's in the ice cells. His injuries-"

"They will be healed, if he is to be healed at all. You need to see to the wolf. The men are terrified, but that terror will turn to violence and I think you know the danger that poses."

"How do you-"

"Go now. Get the wolf back here. I will have him brought, and then you must leave us."

Aurelia trembled. "I will not leave him again."

"You will, because you must. For his safety as well as your own. I will come to you once it is done, regardless of the outcome."

"But if he does not return…"

"All the more reason for you to protect the wolf."

Aurelia hesitated, but Melisandre turned from her and gazed into her fire.

"Did you see this before?"

"Now is not the time, my lady. Delay could mean the end. Now go."

"The end of what?"

Melisandre did not answer and Aurelia sighed, finally turning and running toward Jon's chambers.

"The end of everything," Melisandre whispered to the fire.

When Aurelia arrived near the Lord Commander's door, a commotion surrounded it. She could hear Ghost scratching at the door. Men were pounding the base of it with their feet and the base of spears.

"Get back," Aurelia called out.

The small group turned toward her. She strode forward. "All of you, leave now."

"My lady, we were only-" one of the younger men tried before the heel of Aurelia's hand slammed into his throat. He stumbled back.

"Anyone else who stands in my way will have more than that wolf and myself to answer to. You want to help someone? Go help the men who just murdered the lord commander get shoved off the top of the Wall."

They all gaped at her.

"You heard me. Scatter. Now."

The men scuttled away, mumbling and nervous. Aurelia approached the door.

"Ghost," she called softly. The scratching stopped. She placed her hand on the door. "Ghost, stay," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

She pulled out her dagger, working to pry the lock off the door. It came off easier than expected, the inside part covered in scratches with bits of wood shredded around it. She trembled. She reached for the handle and eased the door open. Ghost sat in the doorway, his head cocked to the side. Aurelia slipped in and closed the door, barely any space between her and the wolf. She looked down at him, his head almost to her chest.

She studied him, their eyes locking. "Ghost?" She murmured again, not sure now.

The direwolf raised a paw, landing it on her hip. Aurelia grasped it, running her thumb along it. She kept looking into his eyes, feeling tears welling in her own.

"Jon?" She whispered.

The direwolf huffed, then shifted his head forward, nuzzling her waist. Aurelia released his paw, dropping to her knees. She ran her hands over the scruff below his jaws, and then moved one hand up to scratch below one ear.

"She's going to save you, love. If you feel pulled away, you have to go. Please go. Please-" she choked on her breath, her tears starting to stream in trails down her cheeks. "Please don't leave me yet."

She leaned in and kissed the top of the direwolf's nose. His long, flat tongue slipped out and ran over her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed. The direwolf nuzzled her shoulder briefly and then shuddered, emitting a sound close to a whine. Aurelia eased back.

"Jon?"

The direwolf slipped from her grasp and started pacing around the room. Aurelia stood, leaning against the wall. "Ghost," she murmured. He glanced at her, then resumed pacing. "If this won't work, please let him back in. Please."

Ghost stopped pacing and circled twice before laying at the foot of Jon's bed. Aurelia moved to him, stooping to scratch behind the other ear before crawling into Jon's bed. She laid down, catching his scent on the pillow and began crying again. She did not feel sleep take her, nor Ghost climbing on the bed to rest beside her.


	23. Chapter 23

Hours later, a knock came at the door. Ghost raised his head, the hackles rising on his back as Aurelia shifted off the bed.

"Ghost, stay," she said calmly. She moved toward the door, glancing up to see a belt hanging on the wall with one of Jon's daggers. She reached for it, clasping the hilt in her hand and withdrawing it before continuing to the door. She shifted it behind her back as she opened the door.

One of Selyse's guards stood before her. A young man Aurelia knew to be loyal to the Lord of Light.

"My lady," he said, almost coughing the words. "The Lady Melisandre sent me to tell you it is done. That you would know what that meant."

"What else did she say?"

"Nothing," a voice called from behind the young man. Melisandre stepped forward, dismissing the man with a wave of her hand. He stepped aside nervously, then walked off several yards.

Aurelia studied Melisandre for any indicator, but her face remained impassive as ever. Melisandre's gaze looked over Aurelia's shoulder, then back to her. She nodded to Aurelia. "He's not awake," she said softly. "But he lives."

"Still?"

"Again," Melisandre whispered. "And he must not be left alone for long. Come when you will, but I believe it was successful."

Without further word, Melisandre left Aurelia, the young man quick on her heels crossing the yard.

Aurelia closed the door. "She believes." She looked to Ghost. "What do you believe?"

The direwolf rested his head on his paws and blinked.

A commotion outside roused Aurelia from Ghost's side an hour later. She rushed to the door and flung it open. Ghost sprinted past her, not heeding as she called after him. He ran for Melisandre's rooms, men scattering in his path.

In the yard, a cluster of men were arguing. Aurelia slipped the dagger into her belt against her back and strode outside. "What the hell is going on here," she demanded, approaching the group.

In the center of the small gathering stood Bowen Marsh and Tormund Giantsbane. Marsh tried to appear calm but Aurelia could see his hand tremble as three men held Tormund at bay.

The wildling looked to Aurelia. "You, charming wench. Tell me this man lies, or let me rip his head from his shoulders."

"Lies about what?"

"That Jon Snow is dead."

Aurelia swallowed. She did not look at Marsh, keeping her focus on Tormund. "He is."

Marsh turned and ran, slipping past several confused men of the Watch coming to see the commotion.

Tormund again struggled to break free of those holding him.

"Let him go, Tormund," Aurelia said calmly. "He has nowhere to run. Come," she reached out her hand. "There is much to say without others listening."

He stopped struggling, looking her over several times. "Do you not want his head smashed in?"

Aurelia took a step forward, her hand still outstretched. "Let's find a warmer place to talk. I imagine you could use some food and a good drink, yes?"

A smile broke through under Tormund's beard. "Har! Trying to make me forget my rage with more physical pleasures?" He stepped to her, grabbing her hand. "Lead the way. I'll hear your words for now, because I'm famished and you're beautiful."

Tormund's rage was not as easily quelled as he led her to think it might be, but she was able to subdue him over the course of the night. When he passed out on Jon's floor just before dawn, he seemed to have gained some more respect for her. She slipped outside, heading directly for Melisandre's chambers. The guards outside let her into the outer room where the priestess stood before a small fire pit.

"He still has not awoken," Melisandre said softly. "But the wolf sits with him now."

"That isn't why I came."

"I know, but you wanted to know how he is. Truthfully, I do not know yet. This spell, this gift, it is unpredictable."

Aurelia nodded. "I suppose you heard of Tormund Giantsbane's rage."

"Yes. Where is he now?"

"Asleep. I think I was able to convince him he still needs to attend to the mission given to him, but not without divulging this." She gestured toward the inner chambers.

Melisandre turned to her. "He listened to you?"

"Full of ale and food and warmth he'll listen to much. How much he will heed is another story."

"And what of the traitor?"

"You likely know more than myself. I cannot stand the sight of him without-" Aurelia stopped herself. "Do you know of anything?"

"He hides. His guilt and anger are great. It is difficult to tell which will win out."

"And the other men?"

"Confused. Order here is tipping toward chaos."

"That's what happens when a leader is stabbed in the back."

Melisandre moved to a small table, pouring a goblet of wine. She held it out to Aurelia. "Would you welcome the chaos?"

Aurelia took the goblet. "No. It will solve nothing. But my respect for the Watch, what it claims to stand for, I cannot abide its practices."

"Is that what you will tell him when he wakes?"

She moved toward the larger fire, embers glowing under the mantle. "That depends who he is when he wakes."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"Better than you know," she replied, pouring herself a goblet of wine. She raised to Aurelia then took a sip.

_That's my fear_ , Aurelia thought. "How long?"

Melisandre set her goblet down. "I do not know. That he lives is good. That the direwolf is by his side is better. The rest - there are some things even god cannot tell us."

Aurelia nodded. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"If he wakes before then?"

"Tell him I'll return tomorrow." She turned and left, leaving her goblet on the mantle, untouched.

* * *

 

Melisandre finished her wine, then took the girl's goblet, moving toward the inner chamber. She pressed open the door, silently slipping in and closing the door behind her.

The figure on the bed stirred as she approached. His eyes fluttered open as she set the goblet on the table beside the bed.

"Where is she?" He whispered.

"She will come tomorrow."

He eyed her. "You still haven't told her I'm awake."

"There are many things in motion right now, Jon Snow. Chaos threatens us all, and Lady Moors could tip it in either direction."

Jon struggled to raise himself up on his elbows. "You lied to her. What lies have you told me?"

"None."

"But you have omitted many things."

Melisandre took the goblet from the table and handed it to him. "Drink. Place your fingers where hers held this cup moments ago. You will see one another again soon."

Jon took a small sip. "And what then?"

She smiled. "We'll see."

"I suppose we will. Rest, Jon Snow. You'll want your strength when she comes, I'm sure."

Without further word, she left as silently as she arrived. Jon downed the wine, swallowing in gulps. He then held the goblet in front of his face for a moment, turning it in his fingers. He looked down at Ghost who remained curled up at the end of the bed.

"She'll know me still, right?" He sighed. "She must."

He leaned over and set the goblet on the table, flinching at the pain in his side. He settled back onto the pillows and nudged the direwolf with his foot.

"Some help you are," he grumbled. Ghost huffed, his hind legs stretching a bit, but made no other motions.

"I know. Patience is not a virtue of mine."


	24. Chapter 24

By the morning, the chaos which threatened them all edged closer to erupting. Several fights had broken out during the night and whenever one argument burned out, another flared. Aurelia did what she could to mediate, between the wildlings and the Watch, between everyone and Selyse’s guards, and still Bowen Marsh did not show his face.

Once she had gotten a few hours sleep and bathed, Aurelia went to Melisandre’s chambers. The woman was absent from the outer room, so Aurelia moved to the inner door and knocked softly. When no response came, she steadied her nerves and opened the door.

Aurelia crept into the chamber, as silent as she could. The room was illuminated with fires; torches blazed, a large hearth roared with flames, tables were littered with candles, and several iron pits held piles of wood burning brightly. In the center of the room, a body lay on a high bed, surrounded by furs and pillows, and Ghost stretched out at the foot. His eyes locked on her as she entered the room, but he made no other movement, nor any sound.

Moving across the floor, Aurelia did not look at the flames, kept her focus on the figure lying on the bed. As she neared it, the legs stirred, but the eyes remained closed. Only once she stood to the side of the bed, staring at the face she knew well, wondering if the spirit inside it would know it, did the eyelids flutter and open. She reached out and ran a hand through the unruly curls. He smiled.

“I thought you’d come sooner,” Jon said softly.

“I’m the first to be here other than the lady Melisandre.”

“The first in two days,” he corrected. “Did you fear to find me grotesque?”

She tilted her head and pursed her lips, and he chuckled.

“I know you better than that.” He raised himself on his elbows and scooted himself up. “You feared to find me changed.”

“You died,” she whispered. “Are you going to tell me that doesn’t change you?”

“It changes a great deal,” he replied. He then took the hand which ran through his hair and held it in his. “Yet some things it could not.”

Aurelia looked down, then across the bed, unable to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t believe me,” he said after a moment.

“I want to... and that is why I do not think I should.”

“What proof is there that I could give?”

Aurelia shook her head, fighting away tears.

“When I was dying, you told me my family was not lost. You told me to hold on for them, that they still needed me. The realm needed me. I heard you, and yet it didn’t matter. Everything was cold, muddled. Then I felt your breath, the warm sting of your tears on my cheek. You told me you needed me. That there could be a life for us. And you would fight for that life, but I needed to fight, too. I love my family, the family of my blood and those at the Wall... those who did not do this to me.” He reached out his other hand and tilted her chin, making her look at him. “But nothing could have saved me in that moment, except you.”

Aurelia heard the doubt screaming in her mind. She knew of what returning from death could do. Not as Jon did with a Walker, a mindless being bent to the will of the dark forces of the Others. Not as the Ironborn knew of it with their faux-magics and Drowned God. She knew one could be possessed and not even see it, by another being or by a powerful motive like revenge. The more magic gained a hold in the world once again, the higher the chance that one returning from the dead would be subject to the rule of forces beyond themselves. She wanted Jon back more than anything, but only her Jon. The possibility that the man Melisandre brought back would be something other than Jon she knew, and took that risk. Yet how could she know? What proof could he give?

Aurelia gazed at him in silence, and he looked to her, his eyes soft and warm. She only knew one way, and would have to act quickly should she have any doubts. Aurelia steeled herself, then relaxed. She climbed upon the bed, straddling Jon. He rose up a bit more, now sitting, and wrapped an arm around her waist. Ghost had not moved, but whined softly on the end of the bed.

Aurelia leaned closer to Jon, “All I have ever desired in life is Jon Snow. His life and mine, intertwined.”

“Now and always,” Jon whispered, and Aurelia kissed him. Her lips connected with his and he instantly put a hand on her neck, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She shifted her weight forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling his body as close to hers as she could without straining his still healing back. She let his kiss fill her up, released her worries, fears, doubts, and let the feelings emanating from him guide her. Jon moved his hand from her face and wound it up her from behind, cradling her shoulders and entangling his hand in her hair. His lips and tongue caressed her with abandon.

He did not speak between kisses, but Aurelia’s head swam with the words he did not utter. _Do not leave me again. I need you with me. Now. Then.  Always. Nothing in this life matters above you. No oath, no spell, no cause will release me from you._

“Nothing will command me but your love.”

Aurelia pulled back, realising these words he spoke aloud.

“I have paid what most would see as the ultimate price for the sake of my oath, my vow to protect the realm. Yet my life is nothing without you. All other oaths be damned.”

Aurelia wanted to chide him, to remind him words like those could be dangerous, yet she knew he was aware of that.

“Jon--” she tried.

“I love you,” he interrupted. “Alive, dead, anything that exists in between, I love you, Aurelia. Nothing will ever --”

This time Aurelia cut him off, with her lips. As they kissed, Ghost shifted up the bed to lay alongside Jon, pressing his back against the side of Aurelia’s leg. He gave her butt a playful nudge with his nose and Aurelia giggled, looking to him.

“I suppose that goes for Ghost as well, then,” she smiled as the direwolf ran his large, flat tongue over her thigh, then settled his head between his paws, stretched out beside them.

“You did kiss him,” Jon smirked.

Aurelia blushed as she looked back at Jon. “I kissed you inside of him.”

“He felt it,” Jon whispered. “Though not as I did.” He moved a hand to her arm, gently stroking up and down it. “Do you believe me now?”

Aurelia nodded, running a finger over his lips, down his chin to his chest. She ran a gentle hand across the wounds on his abdomen. He did not flinch, but his breathing quickened.

“Do they still hurt?”

“I think they always will,” Jon replied. “Even if not physically.”

Aurelia frowned. “There’s not enough torture in this world --”

“Shhhh,” Jon urged. “I’m not strong enough to think about that yet.”

“I’ve done plenty of thinking for you. Strategizing. Plotting, even.”

Jon smiled as he ran a hand along her spine. “Then perhaps I’ll entrust you to their fates.”

“Perhaps you should,” Aurelia smiled. “But not now.”

“I’ve been awake, you know.”

“She lied, then.”

Jon sighed. “Yes. I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“Don’t worry about it right now. For now,” she pressed her forehead against his, running her hand further up his chest, her fingertips playing with his pectorals. “I intend to stay with you until you’re strong again. And help you get strong.”

Jon’s eyes flamed with desire, and Aurelia felt him swell between her thighs. “I suppose you have thought of ways to help me already.”

Aurelia pressed her hips down, the fabric of her dress rubbing against Jon’s swelling cock. “I have indeed,” she smiled. “But I don’t want to exert you too much yet.”

Jon put his hands on her hips and pulled her down further so he could feels the swell of her lips on him through the dress. Aurelia shifted a bit, the friction causing Jon to moan softly as she felt the strength of his arms holding her in place.

“I’m not that weak,” he said.

“Your oath--”

“Was ended by my death. I know we said only that night, for all the nights that could never be. But much has changed, and if you would have me...”

Aurelia placed a finger on his lips. “I would have you always.”

Jon moved his head, placing his lips on her neck and kissing it softly. “And now?” He whispered as he trailed his lips up to her ear.

She wound a hand through his curls, sighing. “We’re insatiable, you realize.”

Jon nibbled her neck. “Coming back from death shifts one priorities. Particularly when all you desire is so tantalizingly perched in your lap.”

Aurelia smiled. “I suppose, if you think yourself capable.”

In a swift motion, Jon shifted back and grasped the hem of Aurelia’s dress. He tugged it up and Aurelia raised her arms, letting him lift it off her and drop it beside the bed. His mouth latched onto her left breast and she moaned as he flicked his tongue over her nipple.

“You wore no bodice. No stays. No undergarments,” he whispered between kisses, licks, and nibbles. “Your breasts swell and move with every breath you take.”

“Are you accusing me of being wanton?”

Jon moved one of his hands from her hips and slid it down between them. He cupped her moist lips and inserted a finger inside her. “As long as it’s only for me.”

She arched her back slightly, as he removed his finger and rubbed it over her clit before moving his hand back to her hip.

Aurelia began sliding her hips, moving herself along his shaft. Jon moaned into her mouth and squeezed one of her cheeks with his hand. She reached between them and took hold of his manhood, easing it inside her.

Jon pressed his hips upwards, pushing himself deeper inside her. Aurelia shifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, then began rhythmically rocking against him as he thrust into her. Their lips met again and again, the heat in the room building as they panted and moaned together. Jon’s thrusts became more insistent and Aurelia closed her eyes, feeling her climax building. Jon ran a hand between them again and stroked her as he pushed deep into her. Aurelia moaned and heard Jon whisper, “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes slowly and gazed at him. He pressed against her clit again and her eyelids fluttered.

“Don’t stop looking at me, love.”

Aurelia forced herself to lock eyes with  him as she sped up her hips. Now it was Jon who moaned, then grunted as her breath hitched and her breasts bounced, her nipples rubbing his chest as she moved up and down.

“We are one...” he breathed.

“Yes,” she agreed as the heat inside her grew, and she neared release.

“Now,” Jon said, then grunted as Aurelia’s cunt tightened on his cock and she moaned in ecstasy as she came. Jon erupted into her, still thrusting as he cried her name.

When both their climaxes began to subside, Aurelia pulled his head toward hers and kissed him. As their lips parted, she sighed, “And always.”

Jon smiled. “Always,” he echoed.

Just then, the handle clicked on the door and it clanked open. The lady Melisandre strode into the room. Ghost raised his head and sniffed the air. He emitted a sound which almost sounded like a grumble, turned his head to nuzzle Aurelia’s hip before scooting his whole body over, then settling down again. Aurelia detached herself from Jon and slid into the gap between him and Ghost. She pulled her legs up then slid them beneath the blankets, leaving her breasts exposed as she settled back against the headboard of the bed and Jon draped one of his arms around her shoulders.

“You seem to be recovering your strength, Lord Commander,” Melisandre said with a sly smile.

“You now that is no longer my title, lady Melisandre,” Jon clipped. “And my recovery would speed itself along if I knew my situation better.”

“All in good time, ser,” she replied, casting a warning glance at Aurelia.

Aurelia’s eyes narrowed. “Have you not told him?”

Melisandre’s lips tightened into thin lines. “I thought it best to let him regain some strength.”

“And so he has,” Aurelia returned. “Now, shall you tell him, or would your prefer me to do it?”

Melisandre approached the bed, giving a small head shake at the sight of the rumpled furs and glowing young couple. “There are certain aspects of life which still evade my understanding, and yet I cannot deny the desire to understand them fuels me.”

“Is that envy I see in your eyes, my lady?” Aurela smiled. “Envy for a type of warmth the Red God cannot give to you.”

“The Red God gives me all the warmth I shall ever require,” Melisandre said somberly. “Though that does not mean I don’t occasionally yearn for understanding of what others feel who have not accepted his warmth.” She ran a hand along the side of the bed, near Jon’s thigh.

“Perhaps it is only the chosen few who can receive all that warmth,” Aurelia smiled. “The rest of us must make do with finding warmth in one another.”

“Not all are warm.”

“No, but some are, and some can be warmed by connecting with those in whom they find warmth.”

Jon’s eyes darted between the two of them, and he gently pulled Aurelia closer to him as his gaze finally rested on Melisandre. “What is it the lady Aurelia thinks you should share with me?”

Melisandre cast her glance aside for a moment, as though formulating the best response. “You are correct, young ser,” she said as she reconnected her gaze with his. “You are no longer Commander of the Night’s Watch. There have been fights, and little talk of electing someone else. And Bowen Marsh has hidden away.”

Aurelia squeezed Jon’s thigh beneath the furs as she felt his body stiffen at the mention of Marsh’s name. “What else?” Jon nearly growled.

“Tensions between the black brothers and wildlings are nearing a head. Queen Selyse has partitioned herself off from everyone except her guards. Three of them died fighting the giant before...”

“I know,” Jon replied. “What else?”

Melisandre’s eyes shifted to Aurelia. “The lady Aurelia has her own thoughts on certain events which I do not necessarily share.”

Jon sighed. “My lady, you know that I was preparing to leave Castle Black when events led to my current state. For two days I have done little but reflect on my actions. I know what errors I committed, and which I have not, though others may not see it in the same terms. All I did I did to try and ensure the protection of all -- wildlings, black brothers, King Stannis’s attendants, everyone. Save for my hasty desire to fly to Winterfell there is nothing I did which was not carefully considered and sometimes advised by others. I took your counsel along with others, including the lady Aurelia’s. I would ask you now, what thoughts do you have that do not align with others?”

Melisandre stood straighter, her head poised and mouth relaxing. There may have been a battle waging between herself and Aurelia for Jon’s heart, a war she would never win, but this would not stop her from engaging his mind.

“Very well. It would do you well to remain here at Castle Black and work with all to repair the rift created not only through the misunderstanding of your actions, but to prepare all for the coming of that which threatens to overshadow all.”

Jon nodded, then turned to Aurelia. She straightened as well, looking into his eyes, seemingly unconscious of the fact that she was naked, exposed from the waist up, with her hand gently rubbing his thigh. “While I agree with Lady Melisandre that the rift between the black brothers, wildlings, and King Stannis’s followers needs mending, it is for the new Lord Commander to do so. Your watch ended when your brothers killed you, and while protection of the realm is the responsibility of all, you were dedicated to not only protection of the entire realm but to your family. It is to your family you should now return. Your reaction to the letter you received from Winterfell may have been hasty, but it was the right decision.”

Jon pondered for a moment, head bowed. Melisandre tilted her head to look at him while Aurelia looked to Ghost and moved her other hand to pet him. The direwolf lifted his head and nosed Aurelia’s arm, sniffed at the furs, then laid it down again.

When Jon spoke again, both women turned to him, Melisandre with an expectant and somewhat arrogant glint in her eye, Aurelia with openness and curiosity.

“You both make sound arguments. I confess myself torn, though leaning more towards one course which I will not state yet lest I should change my mind. I ask now, am I in immediate danger here?”

Aurelia cast her gaze to Melisandre for the answer. “No, Jon Snow. You are not. If anything you are safer in this room than anywhere in the world for all factions fear places where the Red God is strong.”

“That men fear your God so concerns me,” Jon commented, continuing before she could interject. “But thank you for being honest. I would like to think a day or so on this before deciding. May I ask, what has become of Tormund Giantsbane?”

Now it was Melisandre’s turn to cast a glance at Aurelia, who answered, “He is for all purposes the leader of the wildings, and incensed at what happened to you. If there is to be a true war between the Watch and the wildlings, all Tormund must do is give the word.”

“Then why has he not?”

“Because your lady has a talent for diplomacy and the man genuinely likes her,” Melisandre stated.

Jon started to object to Aurelia being called his lady, then realized he didn’t need to. A small smile crossed his lips at this realization before he looked to Aurelia.

“It’s true, Tormund has listened to me thus far. He believes in you Jon, and by extension me.”

“Do not discount your own charms, my lady,” Melisandre smiled.

Aurelia glowered. “I do not discount them. Tormund is not an easy man to win favour with, and had Jon not garnered it before me I do not believe he would entirely trust me.”

Jon kissed the top of her head. “He would be unwise not to trust you.”

Aurelia’s smile broadened as she tilted her face to look up at Jon. Neither spoke, but their eyes said a great deal. Melisandre shifted uncomfortably before taking a step back from the bed.

“I shall see that food and drink are brought, Jon Snow,” she said. “Do you require anything more?”

Jon shook his head, turning to look at her. “Not at this time. Thank you, my lady.”

Melisandre nodded with a gracious smile. “Lady Aurelia, should you not give him some time to rest?”

Aurelia had not taken her eyes off Jon as she reached a hand up to place on his chest. “What is your will, ser?”

Jon placed his hand over hers, the warmth of his skin and strength in it causing Aurelia to flush with joy. This hand was strong, protective, devoted. If his kisses, declarations, and lovemaking had not convinced her that he truly was hers, this simple gesture did.

He did not look back to her, but Aurelia heard the emotion in his tone. “I will rest better with her by my side.”

Melisandre’s gaze flickered between them. She looked about to speak but seemed to think otherwise and so nodded, turned, and left Jon and Aurelia with Ghost in the glowing room. In that moment Aurelia knew whatever the cost, she would not be parted from Jon ever again.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're into nothing but speculation and my own crafted adventures now... hope you enjoy!

After four days, Jon could no longer stand being tucked in bed in the heat. Aurelia had left him the night before, after being called by Melisandre, then Selyse, then Tormund. All monopolized her time and in the warmth of his protected room, Jon did little but stretch and test his body’s strength and think of her. At times he forced himself to think of other things, of plans and ideas, of what to do with this seeming second chance at life. Yet never did his thoughts stray for long to anything other than her.

_Does she trust me again, truly? Am I even to be trusted? How do I keep her now? How could I lose her again?_

These thoughts and more ran through his head as he tested his strength, doing push-ups and easing through sword maneuvers.

_What do we do now? Where do we go? Where do I belong?_

More questions swam as he flexed his left hand and examined the fast-healing wounds in his side. The answer to every question always ended with the same conclusion.

“Aurelia,” he breathed. Even her name whispered in the pale light of fires felt like an invocation, a promise of unending devotion. Part of him wondered if it was because she was the last person to see him alive, and the first and last to see him, to know him inside Ghost. His memories of being within the direwolf, being part of him, were muddled. Yet he remembered her. A moment when wolf and the man within were at peace, complete and content. It wasn’t just need or desire. He may have stolen her as she said, but she stole him first and no thief in this realm or any other would claim him from her.

As this realization struck, the door clinked open. Jon raised himself up in bed, having resumed his position of rest. Melisandre strode in, Ghost on her heels. The direwolf leapt onto the bed, nuzzled Jon’s leg, then lay beside him.

“Good morning, Jon Snow,” she said, placing a tray on the table beside his bed. “You seem,” she looked him over, “improved.”

Jon nodded. “I am ready to be in the world again, I think. Unless you intend to hold me here forever and act as my nursemaid.”

A smile crossed her lips, all politeness and no warmth. “That is not my intention. Though I do not think you would follow my intention, whatever it is.”

“As indebted as I am to you, the only person’s intentions I plan to follow are my own. But I do value your counsel.”

“Perhaps not as you should.”

Jon laughed. “That can be said of most men, I think.”

“True,” she replied, warmth creeping into her eyes. “You want to go to her.”

Jon swallowed, nodded.

“I cannot sway you against it?”

“I can’t stay here forever,” he sighed.

“That I know, nor do I wish you to stay. But there is talk enough already of you and her.”

“Let them talk,” Jon said, tossing aside the furs and slipping out the bed.

He strode past Melisandre to a chair where a pair of trousers and shirt had been laid for him two days ago. He began dressing and she watched him.

“You seem unconcerned now with how your relationships with her will be perceived.”

“I think getting stabbed in the back and killed negates not only my leadership, but my loyalty to the Watch.”

“‘It shall not end until my death,’” she recited. “That’s part of the vow is it not?”

“Yes,” Jon clipped, pulling on a heavier leather shirt over the canvas on and fastening the laces. “I’d say I fulfilled that part. Along with others.”

“‘I pledge my life and honour to the Night’s Watch,’” she continued.

“I know the words.”

“And yet you would interpret them to suit your desires.”

“I interpret them to mean I dedicate my life to the Watch and its mission until I die. I died. At the hand of the Watch. They don’t want me, I won’t overstay my welcome.” He fastened his sword belt around his waist. “I wouldn’t overstay yours either, my lady,” he clipped. “Ghost, to me.”

The direwolf stretched itself on the bed, then leapt off, following Jon into the outer chamber where he retrieved his heavy fur cloak and greeted the world for the first time as a man reborn.

He ignored the stares and whispers from the assortment of Watch men and Selyse’s guards dotting the yard as he made his way to the lift at the base of the Wall. He glanced to the young man operating the winch as he opened the gate and stepped in, Ghost at his heels. He nodded to the boy, who scrambled to his feet and pushed the lever to raise the basket.

  
  


Once again, Jon found Aurelia atop the Wall. She seemed as at home there as any of the men, perhaps more than most. Gazing out across the landscape, now dusted white as far as anyone could see, Jon came up to her side. He slid an arm around her waist and her head tilted to lean against his shoulder.

“The world often seemed clearer to me up here, when you could tell the difference between one side and the other,” she said as her hand clasped his.

The feeling of her fingers laced with his, even through their thick, lined gloves brought Jon a calm he only knew through her touch. “It won’t be winter there forever.”

“So long as there’s not a frozen army of the undead massing to take the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“They’ll have to get through the Wall and Stannis first.”

“If they make it down to King’s Landing, it will likely mean they destroyed everything leading down to it. And we’ll be dead before being able to see the shock on the faces of the Lannisters and all their lacqueys before they get slaughtered.”

Jon chuckled. “So you’re having pleasant thoughts this morning, I see.”

Aurelia looked up at him, her chin resting on his shoulder, the wind whipping strands of her hair across the scruff on his face. “Cheery as an ice cell.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, reddened and cold. “That’s my girl. Now,” he continued, shifting around to face her and wrapping both his arms around her waist. “It isn’t like you to mope. You’ve been teasing me with talk of plans and schemes. I doubt any of them involve us being hunted to death by walkers or anyone else.”

Aurelia sighed. “We’re being hunted as we speak. Not much we can do about it, really.”

“But you have thoughts on us. When we were up here before -- you spoke of possibilities for us to be together. I assume you meant for more than a few nights of blissful passion.”

“I did.”

“So tell me.”

Aurelia studied him, then looked past him to Ghost, snuffling his way along the path with measured steps. “How are you feeling?”

“Stronger, better. Almost bored to death again being stuck in that room. Lia, please tell me what you’re thinking.”

She kept her gaze on the direwolf. “The letter Ramsay sent, you know it was full of lies.”

“I know now he didn’t marry my sister. Melisandre told me of Stannis’ raven. That he used Theon to perpetuate a ruse, or Roose did.”

Aurelia nodded. “So the Boltons have Winterfell by right of declaration, but they have no claim to it as any Northerner would see it. Ramsay will loathe that, as will his father. Whatever remains of the lords and laymen who came to Winterfell to see a wedding of their people before the Old Gods, they’ll trust the Boltons even less now. That will make them even angrier, and more ripe for drafting new plans.”

He raised a hand to her chin, nudging it so she would look at him again. “And what plans would those be?”

“The Boltons don’t care about honor, but they do care about prestige, pedigree, even prizes, if you will. Ramsay in particular. And they just had a grand one slip from their grasp.”

Jon swallowed hard. “What are you suggesting?”

“What if they had a different prize? A better prize?”

“Aurelia, no,” Jon cautioned. “You cannot.”

“I can, and I mean to.”

“If you got there, if you marry Ramsay, you’ll be--”

“The lady of Winterfell. The wife of the heir to the Warden of the North. Roose will push for approval of the marriage, and Ramsay will push him harder. They’ll want me.”

“He’ll kill you.”

She shook her head. “Not until Ramsay has an heir, or three. He knows how dangerous having only one son can be.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Aurelia laughed, a harsh almost-cackle. “Never. Give me three weeks. I will win them. I will marry Ramsay. And then end this.”

Jon studied her. “Three weeks?”

She nodded.

“And what do I do during this time?”

“Hide, and watch.”

“How do I--”

“Jon, you know the grounds better than anyone there. Particularly the crypts.”

“We don’t know that they haven’t explored them.”

“Don’t we?” She leaned closer to him, the wind again whipping strands of her hair against his face. “You know how complex those tunnels are, and how dangerous in the dark. And do you really think after everything that’s happened Bolton and Frey men will want to venture to exploring Stark crypts? And if they do,” she brushed her lips across his cheek. “There may be another ghost in Winterfell.”

She pulled back and Jon fought a smile. “Why would you put yourself in that position? What do we gain besides revenge?”

“Everything,” she replied.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you here. We need somewhere quiet, and secure.”

“We can go down in the cellars, in the larder. I still have a key.” He took her hand and Aurelia hesitated. “What is it?”

“You promise not to lock me down there?”

Jon smiled. “Why would I do that?”

Aurelia blinked away tears.

“What is it?”

She huffed. “Let’s do this before I have tears freeze on my face.”

Jon stared at her briefly, but then tugged for her to follow him, and she did. Ghost followed them into the basket, sitting at Aurelia’s side, sniffing her hand. They remained silent on the ride down from the Wall, and all the way into the cellars. Jon unlocked the larder and ushered her inside. He stopped Ghost before the wolf entered.

“Ghost, stay.”

The direwolf huffed, but sat down. Jon looked back to Aurelia, already pacing the floor.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, and yet I couldn’t for so many reasons. I hope you understand that.”

Jon had barely closed the door as she began speaking. He turned to lean against it, watching her. “What is it?”

Aurelia paced back and forth a few more times, then stopped in front of him. She took a step to him, looking into his eyes, almost pleading. “The offer Stannis made you, for Winterfell, legitimacy, and a wife.”

“What of it?”

“Robb offered the same.”

Jon shifted forward. “What?”

“Before he left for the Twins, he called me to his tent one night and showed me a letter. It named you his heir unless a child of his was born, and then you would be castellan, or regent, until the child came of age. He legitimized you, and promised a thousand men to the Watch in your place. And he -- he betrothed us.” She choked out her final words, tears forming again in her eyes.

Jon blinked several times. “He did what?”

“All of it,” Aurelia whispered. “He gave you all of it.”

“Where is the letter?”

“With Maege Mormont.”

Jon’s eyes widened. “That’s why you wanted to find her.”

“Yes,” Aurelia nodded. “To know if she still had it. If she even -- without that letter telling you wouldn’t matter. We’d be in the same position as your offer with Stannis, but with it--”

“Are you saying she does have it?”

“Yes,” she managed before a sob came out.

Jon stepped forward and folded her into his arms. “Aurelia,” he soothed. “Calm down, love. I’m not angry with you. Gods forbid I be angry with you for wanting this.”

Aurelia clung to him, her sobs subsiding but her body trembling. Jon kissed the top of her head, then down to her neck, before whispering in her ear. “Do you remember what I said? If there’s a way, we’ll find it. We’ll fight for it.” He pulled back and tilted her head up to look at him. He then kissed her softly before continuing. “But why then do you have to marry Ramsay?”

“Because we don’t have the men to give the Watch,” she sniffed. “And because it will solidify both Robb’s decree and what the Lannisters will have sanctioned through their approval of my marriage to that bastard scum.”

“They’ll never approve of us.”

“Let them come to us,” she challenged. “In the winter, in the snow and ice, without allies in the north. All I need is to get to Winterfell, soon, with you in hiding and Maege in place.”

“Then you started planning this even before… What were you going to do about the men for the Watch earlier, and my serving as Lord Commander?”

Aurelia sighed. “I hadn’t worked that out, honestly. I meant to tell you once I got confirmation of Maege’s allegiance to me. It happened soon after you received the letter from Ramsay, and everything happened so quickly, and you were -- I -- I don’t know.”

Jon kissed her head again. “Then you mean to end both Ramsay and Roose.”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he snarled. He shifted back to look at her. “By all the gods and every man on this earth, you are not doing that without me.”

“Jon--”

“Roose betrayed and killed my brother. He and his bastard son stole our home, and the one true chance we had to be together. Ramsay incited me to leave the Wall under pretense of marrying my sister. It’s time they understood how much the north remembers.”

Aurelia shifted from his embrace, then ran a hand down his face. “There is small chance of us actually succeeding, you realize.”

“What is the alternative? Running?”

She nodded.

A soft smile curved his full lips. “I know you better than that, and you know me.”

“But it bears saying.”

“You’re giving me the opportunity to what? Say no? Tell you this plan is--”

“Madness, I know,” Aurelia cut him off, her head bowed.

“I was going to say brilliant,” Jon replied, lifting her chin up with his hand. “And a bit mad as well.”

She smiled before he kissed her.

“You know the risks we take with this,” she murmured as they parted.

Jon clasped her face in his hands. “I would die again a hundred times to return to you.”

“I do not think it will work that way.”

“I know,” he replied, pulling her into his arms. “Whatever the cost now, I am yours, to whatever end. I’d rather die with the world knowing that than live forever hiding as though I was ashamed of us.”

“But will you fight to live for us?” She asked, trembling in his embrace.

Jon pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “With everything I have. I swear.”

Finally, the smile returned to Aurelia’s eyes. “So will I.”

Jon once again pulled Aurelia into his arms and held her firm. She melded into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat steadily, and sighed.

“I know what you would say,” Jon said softly. “Please, do not tempt me.”

Aurelia looked up at him, running a hand through his unruly locks. “We were meant for more. Still, the idea of running off to a small cottage, just us and Ghost --”

“Don’t tempt me,” he murmured, looking stern, but his eyes shone.

Aurelia raised herself up on her toes, kissing under his chin, then tilting his head down toward hers. “Well, there’s the small matter of leaving this place.”

“I think they’ll be glad to be rid of me.” Jon smiled down at her, then his brow furrowed. “You’re worried about her.”

“Always. Moreso now that--”

“The owing of my life to her is not literal.”

“I’m not certain she views it in that light.”

“Lia,” Jon sighed. “She cannot keep us here.”

“She can, and she will, if our leaving does not serve her in some way.”

“I will not be trapped here to do her, or anyone else’s bidding. And I will not leave for anyone’s desire but yours and my own.”

“But if following my plans gets you hurt--”

“Then it will be in service of our future together. Make no mistake, I’m not some mummer you can just direct for action, love, but I know the value you place on us, together. I trust your judgment.”

“And I yours,” she countered.

“If you were hoping I would try and talk you out of this, you came to the wrong man. Despite the dangers, what you’re suggesting rights all manner of wrongs. And,” he continued after bringing her hand to his lips, “it is what Robb wanted for us, what he believed was right. And...”

“And?”

“It is what I believe is right. Us, together, I mean. And with no other to claim Winterfell -- we can’t leave it with the Boltons.” He sighed again. “Do you really have to marry him?”

“To save Winterfell, yes. To unite us as Robb wished before gods and men, yes. Without this alliance, we have no hope of--”

“What about Stannis?”

Aurelia bit her lip.

“You believe he’ll let a slight such as this slide? Asking permission from the Lannisters and not him? When he’s already offered me--”  
“You were bound to the Watch then, and now you’re not. He promised you Val, not me. And I will not be the one petitioning the Lannisters.”

“You think he will not see your marrying of Ramsay as a betrayal?”

“He might, if he does not have the true reasoning explained to him. Which is why we’ll have to act fast on many fronts once the Boltons are displaced. And we’ll need the support of the other northern lords.”

Jon looked down at her. “Something I suppose you were working on when you went to Last Hearth, and elsewhere.”

“A bit. And there is more work to be done from within Winterfell. Lord Manderly is there, and other minor lords.”

“And Freys. Will you befriend them as well?”

Aurelia glared at him. Jon watched her for a moment, studying her face.

“Sometimes I don’t realize how you’ve changed,” he murmured.

“I stopped letting duty and propriety guide my decisions,” she said simply. “And I may have lost some of my belief that within most people are honourable. I suppose that leads to rather obvious changes, but do not think all of me so changed.”

“I don’t. I know you love me, and I know you cherish Winterfell and its legacy. Both you have held close to you as long as I’ve known you. Seeing what you will do now to fight for them I -- I almost feel unworthy.”

She shook her head. “Don’t. Since Robb -- and everything with the war, at the Twins, all of that mess, I understand more clearly now the need of fighting for what you value most. Sometimes that leads to unpleasant compromises and paths, but when it’s in the service of what you know to be right, to be your purpose in life… selfish though it may be, my life is yours, Jon. It is now as it always should have been.”

Jon pulled her into his arms and kissed her, fierce and needful. When they broke, he smoothed a hand down her back to rest just above the curve of her bottom. He opened his mouth to speak when his stomach rumbled loud enough for them to break into smiles.

“I suppose I should eat something,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. I probably should as well.”

“Come on,” he said with a gentle pat on her butt. “Let’s see what happens when we go to the dining hall together. The winter maid and the risen ghost.”

Aurelia lifted herself on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t get yourself stabbed again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	26. Chapter 26

The hall was mostly empty when they entered together. The handful of queen’s men in one corner and black brothers in another stopped their conversations to gape at them.   
“Yes,” Aurelia hissed. “He’s alive. Anyone comes near him with a weapon anytime soon is going through me first. And him,” she gestured to Ghost, hackles rising slightly as she spoke.   
The men shrank into their corners and resumed quiet conversation. As Aurelia and Jon sat down beside each other, the doors opened again. Melisandre glided in with three attendants on her heels, one carrying a large tray of food and hot mulled wine. The attendant sat the tray in front of Jon and Aurelia as Melisandre sat across from them. She waved toward the attendants and they moved to a table near the queen’s men.   
Aurelia and Jon exchanged a look as Melisandre took a small biscuit and slice of hard cheese from the tray.   
“Eat, my young friends. You must both be hungry. You left before taking your morning meal, Jon Snow,” she smiled at him.   
Aurelia reached for the wine and poured two cups, handing the first to Jon. She poured a third and offered it to Melisandre who took it. The red lady raised it to the pair, and took a sip. They followed suit. Aurelia set her cup on the table and reached for a piece of cheese and hunk of dried meat.   
“What brings you out to dine with us my lady?” Aurelia broke off a piece of the meat and dropped it on the floor. Ghost scooted over beside her and lay down, gnawing on the meat.  
“A desire to see two young people happy together.”  
“A pretty lie,” Jon smiled as he grabbed a piece of cheese. “Why are you really here?”  
Melisandre took another sip of wine, then a small nibble of cheese. Aurelia tried not to gape. The red woman rarely ate, and even more rarely did she drink at the same time.   
“A leading question, Jon Snow. The same could be said of you.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You are healed. You are not exactly bound by oath to this place or these men.” She glanced up to the pocket of black brothers clustered and murmuring. “They regard you now with as much apprehension as they regard me. A link likely to remain.”  
“You’re wondering if we intend to remain here,” Aurelia said simply after chewing a piece of meat.  
Melisandre smiled.   
“You would advise staying,” Jon countered. “You’ve already made your views clear on that.”  
“I thought I could persuade you further,” Melisandre addressed Jon with a hum that almost purred.   
“No need,” Jon replied. “I’ve already made my decision.”  
Melisandre’s gaze shifted between them. “It is as I feared then.”  
“My lady, if you have real reason to believe our lives more at risk beyond this place than they are remaining here, it is in your mind to decide whether or not to divulge such. However, whatever your reasoning, my decision is made and will not be easily swayed.”  
“Then perhaps you will listen to a suggested course of action.”  
“Meaning?”  
As Melisandre wove her tale, Aurelia felt her pulse quicken. She wanted them to remain at the Wall. Yet if she had anticipated their leaving, what else had she planned? Jon appeared to listen attentively, while Aurelia studied Melisandre for indication of her true motives. Though, as always, the woman gave little away. Aurelia was also aware of Jon’s hand on her thigh, rubbing it as Melisandre spoke to him. When Melisandre had finished speaking, Jon nodded in thought before replying.   
“Thank you for your input, my lady. We will take it under advisement.”  
“I hope you will, my young friends,” she smiled, then rose. The attendants across the room took note and followed her out of the hall.   
“Did you hear any of that?” Jon murmured in Aurelia’s ear before kissing her cheek.   
“Some,” she sighed.   
“You were listening for intent, not words, weren’t you.”  
“Mmmm…”  
“And?”  
She turned to meet his gaze. “And all I want right now is to kiss you, and keep you safe.”  
Jon studied her briefly, then smiled. “Then take me to your chambers, my lady.”  
They rose together and left the hall, Ghost at their heels then leading the way across the yard to Aurelia’s quarters near the edge of the queen’s tower.  
Once inside, they were in each other’s arms before Ghost had even circled around for a comfortable spot to plop down.  
“What did she tell you?” Aurelia asked as her lips trailed down his neck.  
Jon chuckled. “You really didn’t listen.”  
“Something about enchanting you to do her bidding.”  
“I’m not enchanted by her.”  
“Doesn’t mean she won’t keep trying to change that fact.”  
Jon slipped from her embrace, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. “She can try all she likes. There’s only one person in this world I find enchanting. Only one. Now and always.”  
“Jon--”  
“She thinks we should leave here separately, and keep my… return to the living as close to Castle Black as possible. I can’t say it’s a bad strategy.”  
Aurelia sighed. “It’s not. I’ll give her that.”  
Jon’s hand moved to caress her neck. “It’s also a good strategy to have one of us appear to trust her and one on their guard. And yes, it’s only for appearances. She may yet still be of some help to us, and we can use all we can get. But don’t mistake that for my trusting her, alright?”  
She nodded. “Speaking of plans, there’s more we have to discuss for ourselves.”  
“Let’s not waste time, then.”  
They spoke throughout the day, strategizing and trying to craft counter moves to various possible reactions. Aurelia slipped out in the early evening to get more food and drink for them, Ghost staying in the room with Jon. After they had eaten and once again spoken more tender thoughts to one another, Aurelia sat on the edge of the bed while Jon stood and flexed his hands before falling to the floor to start some pushups.   
“You’re uncomfortable with being in the shadows, I know. But no one can suspect your presence. In grudging admittance, Melisandre is right that it’s better no one know you’re alive at all.”  
“And what am I to do with myself all day?”  
“Keep from being seen… and watch over me, if the desire is there.”  
He shifted to sitting. “What do you mean?”  
“You know what I speak of.”  
“Lia, you know I want to protect you, that I would give anything to remain by your side, but -- I don’t know how to control it.”  
“I’ve been reading quite a bit when I can. Sam gave me a good tour of the stacks some might call a library when I was here the first time.”  
“And you’ve been reading about wargs?”  
“What little the Watch understands of it, yes.”  
“And the rest?”  
“Inference, and what I saw with Robb.”  
Jon sighed and rose, pacing across the floor. “I don’t like it, leaving myself vulnerable down there.”  
“I don’t either, but if you’re hidden properly, no one will find you. I’m more worried about your control, inside of Ghost, and being able to let go.”  
He stopped and looked at her. “She offered to help.”  
“She? Who would --” Aurelia stopped herself. “Why would she?”  
“I don’t know. I think she foresaw my death, my changing, and maybe she thought some training of some sort would make it easier. Or else… I don’t know.”  
“How would she know?”  
“Perhaps we should ask her.”  
“She already knows too much, and she’s not pleased with our plan to leave, and--” Aurelia sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But if she knows better how to keep you safe, whole...”  
Jon moved to her side. He placed a hand on her leg, running his fingers along her thigh. “Is it more dangerous for her to know we want this knowledge, or for us to leave without seeing if what she knows is useful? I can see it playing in your mind.”  
“Jon, your safety is everything to me. And despite what she’s done for you, I never feel you’re safe with her around.”  
“You worried she’s going to seduce me?” She gave him a sidelong glance and he chuckled. “You’re talking about marrying a monster of a man. By most accounts even calling him a man is an insult to almost all men who have ever lived. While I have to stand by and let it happen, fearing every moment that he or his father could kill you, whether they figure out this plan or not. Allow me to find a bit of humour.”  
She scooted close to him, almost climbing in his lap, and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thus our biggest weakness is our desire to protect one another.”  
“Mmmm,” he agreed.   
“So will you speak to her about it?”  
“It was your voice, your presence, which kept me fighting. You keep me fighting. Ghost has always been close to you. ” He kissed her head, lingering to run fingers through her hair. “I do not fear losing myself in the wolf, so long as you are there to return to.”  
“If we had more time. If you could glean something from her--”  
“This is a turn,” Jon smiled. “Weren’t you just the one trying to talk me out of asking her?”  
Aurelia nuzzled his neck. “I never said I planned for everything. What is your instinct?”  
Jon paused for a moment, his hand running along her thigh, inhaling her scent as she leaned against him. “If we ask her, if she has any information of merit, we owe her more than we already do. We don’t have time to debate and wonder, or for me to try much before it is essential to our plans.” He sighed, pressing his lips to her head again. “Tell me everything you’ve learned, and we’ll try tonight. We have at least that time.”  
Aurelia nodded.   
“I’m not going to lose myself, love. You are everything, and I will not risk your safety surrounded by Boltons and Freys. Ghost and I will protect you, together. I swear to you.”  
She placed her hand over his on her thigh. “It’s not my protection I’m worried about.”  
He shifted his head down to meet their lips. “This is the time to express our fears and weaknesses. We can’t have much more of this.”  
Aurelia kissed him, her hands clasping his face. She shifted into his lap, his hands moving to her waist, then one sliding up her chest. Moaning softly as he massaged her breasts, she wound fingers in his hair, encouraging him. After a moment, Ghost rose from where he sat and crept over to them. He nudged Aurelia’s free hip with his nose and they broke, looking at the direwolf. Ghost panted, then settled beside the bed near Jon’s feet.   
“See,” Jon said, rubbing his thumb across a nipple swelling beneath her stays. “Whatever his wildness, he is nearly as connected to you as he is to me. Perhaps more in some ways.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“He always obeyed your commands as a puppy. He stills beneath your touch, is calmed by you as I am.”  
Ghost lifted his head and ran his tongue over Aurelia’s ankle. She smiled down at the wolf, then up at the man. “Careful. I may worry about what tricks you’ll try when united.”  
“Better for that than for our safety,” he replied, then pulled her back for a kiss, trying to melt away both their fears. “I trust your plans, Lia,” he murmured between kisses. “Trust in me to see them through.”  
“I do,” she whispered in his ear. She moved a hand down, slipping it into his trousers. “If you’re going to lose yourself, then lose it in me.”  
And for a time, he did.


	27. Chapter 27

“There is something else we have to address,” Aurelia said, her head tucked against Jon’s chest.   
“Hmmm?” Jon absentmindedly ran his fingers along her arm.   
She shifted to look at him. “I’m not sure if I should speak of it while entangled in your arms. You may end up wanting to throw something and I’d prefer it not be me.”  
His brow furrowed. “What is it?”  
“I am to marry Ramsay.”  
“I understand that. Must we belabour--”  
“And be his wife for two nights.”  
“Yes, of course. Treachery will be anticipated the night of it. We’ve gone through it. Not until the second night. I’ll find you and--” Jon rose suddenly, grasping Aurelia by the shoulders and taking her up to sitting with him. “No.”  
“Jon--”  
“You can’t mean to.”  
“I must.”  
“Aurelia, if half the rumours about him are true, you cannot think to -- to put yourself -- he must not touch you.”  
“He will. He has to.”  
“No.”  
“Jon,” she pleaded. “Listen, please.” She waited a moment for his grip to ease on her shoulders.  
“There can be no suspicion about my intentions with him. Not following through with a proper wedding night -- I might as well walk up to the gates of Winterfell and announce our plans. And there are several points I need you to understand about this happening, because it is happening.”  
“Such as?” He growled.  
“Killing him while he is in bed with me is the easiest way. He will be vulnerable, distracted. You must take him quickly, but not before he’s fully -- before we -- until his attention is on me and nothing else.”  
Jon’s lips quivered, and his grip tightened again, but he remained silent.   
“Secondly, getting through the first night -- I won’t think of you.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“It might help prepare me for the act required of me, but I will not do that to our bond. May the old gods and any gods that exist strike me down if I connect thoughts of being with that bastard to thoughts of you.”  
Jon softened a bit at this, his grip easing again. “What else?”  
“Only this: you’re not the one who has to fuck him. So before you go on a tear about the indignity you must suffer, or the disgust you’ll feel, remember that. It’s not you having to pretend to enjoy that murderous wretches advances, or caresses, or cock inside you. Nor you who will suffer whatever marks get embedded in flesh, or the memory of his looks as he takes you. It’s not you sacrificing your honor for the chance to take revenge on those who have tried to destroy everything you hold dear. And it’s not you who will have to see the look of disdain on the face of your lover, your true beloved and intended, when he remembers what you’ve done. I will understand if you do not wish to touch me, or be touched by me, for some time, but the shame of this act...”  
Tears flowed from Aurelia’s eyes, and Jon felt his insides twist. He pulled her into his arms, caressing her neck and rubbing her back. “I will never shame you for this,” he said, his voice trembling. “I cannot proclaim that the whole idea doesn’t disgust me, but it must be a shadow to what you feel. Just… fend him off as long as you can, will you?”  
“With everything I have,” she replied, again nestling her head near his neck, kissing his collarbone. “I swear the thought of his touch stirs a desire to retch, but this has to be. And yet the thought of you pushing me away for some perceived slight or jealousy after the fact--”  
“We are one, love. In body and spirit,” he assured her.  
“Then you aren’t angry?”  
“Oh, I am, but not with you.” He kissed her hair, the side of her head, her jawline, tilting her chin to meet her lips. “Not with you,” he whispered.  
“We should try it now,” she sighed after a few minutes of caressing one another.  
Jon nodded. He shifted to lay down on the bed, taking a few deep breaths as he settled onto his back.   
Aurelia ran her fingers along his jawline. “Ready?”  
“As ever I will be,” he smiled at her before closing his eyes.   
Aurelia watched as a few seconds later his eyelids fluttered, then shot open. His eyes had turned milk in color and Aurelia’s gaze darted to Ghost. His hackles raised briefly, and he huffed, then stood. He turned his head to look at her, a curious expression in his red eyes. He moved to the bed, tentative. Aurelia patted the space beside her and he leapt up. He plopped down alongside her, and began to sniff. His nose snuffled around her chest to her neck, where his flat tongue darted along the side before nuzzling his head beneath her chin. She scratched behind his ears and one of his paws moved to rest over her legs. He then shifted his head forward, gazing at Jon’s form. He sniffed, then huffed, then nudged Jon’s ribs with his nose.   
Aurelia held her breath, seeing if this contact would break their connection. Ghost paused as well, then slunk back and leapt off the bed. He paced around the room a few times, then settled beside the bed again. Aurelia watched him intently until she felt Jon’s hand clasp hers. She looked back to him.  
A small upturn of his full lips greeted her as his eyes regained their natural color. “That was easier than I thought,” he murmured.   
“How do you feel?”  
“Strange. I can’t describe… like being two places at once and yet immersed only in one realm. I thought he would fight more, or press back.”  
“Both of you are calm now. Nothing life threatening about. I should imagine the difficulty will come when your instincts are battling one another.”  
“Then I’ll have to ensure they align on one constant goal,” he replied.   
“And what is that?”  
Jon brought her hand to his lips, and she blushed.  
“You want to let him out and try again,” he said softly.  
She nodded. Jon rose, pulled on his trousers, and went to the door. Ghost tracked him with his gaze. Jon opened the door and cast a glance to the direwolf. “Go on, boy. Go find something to eat.”  
The direwolf huffed, then rose and stretched. He looked back at Aurelia, then to Jon, then trotted out the door. Once in the yard, he took off at a full sprint for the gate and the wilds beyond. Jon watched until he was out of sight, then closed the door. Leaning against it, his gaze again landed on Aurelia.   
“At least give him some time to track something. He needs to eat, too,” she smiled.  
“Whatever will we do in the meantime?” He combed over her with his eyes, pressing away from the door and slinking back toward the bed. He climbed on the end and crawled toward her. Inches from her face, she reached out a placed a hand on his shoulder.   
“Jon--”  
“You wanted us to have opposing focus. He’s hungry, and so am I.” He pressed forward as her hand shifted up and slid over his back as he closed the distance between them.   
“Insatiable,” she murmured before his lips met hers.   
His kisses were light, tender, yet the restraint did not hinder their passion. She eased down the bed as he positioned himself on top of her. His lips worked their way over her neck and shoulders, down to her chest, over her hip, and lower still. Words of longing intermingled with whispers of their plans, until his lips met her swollen bud and his fingers delved between her slick folds. Her fingers entwined in his unruly hair as he worked her toward the edge, then pushed her over so hard his free hand had to steady her hips from bucking up against his forehead. One of her legs trembled as her release subsided. She tugged gently on his hair and he shifted back up. She tasted herself on his lips and tongue before nudging his hip with her knee.   
“Now,” she murmured in his ear. “Go now.”  
Jon growled, but rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. His body went rigid, and then his eyes shot open, once again milk white. She tucked her legs into her chest as she sat up and watched him.


	28. Chapter 28

Ghost padded through the forest, sniffing along a trail, the taste of blood mixing with that of packed snow and pine. There was usually little game in the area just outside the Wall, the men of the Watch and the people of Mole’s Town thinned most packs of deer and elk for their own food.   
Yet tonight Ghost scented rare prey. A wild boar. Not the skinchanger’s boar, that was still locked up.   
This boar was truly wild, unconnected to another being. Ghost slinked along, tongue darting to the ground here and there. When the scent became strong enough, he took off at a run, a white streak darting between trees until the land opened up to pure white. He came toward the top of a hill and slowed, taking the air. He peered over the hill and saw his prey below. His muscles tensed, then he leapt over the hilltop and rushed at the boar. It was smaller than average, though its tusks were honed to dangerous points. Ghost took it from the side, teeth digging into flesh as they tumbled across the snow.   
The board let out a shriek, then a grunt, and tried to pry itself from the direwolf. Ghost wrenched his head down, tearing away a massive chunk of flesh from the boar's midsection. The boar made to run. Ghost licked his lips and charged again, this time tumbling with the boar into a tree trunk. Ghost's back hit the trunk, wedged between the boar and the tree, he huffed with a not insignificant amount of pain. The boar righted itself and made to charge. Ghost scrambled away, just missing a strike from the tusks. The boar hit the tree and one tusk wedged in the trunk.   
Needing no further opportunity, Ghost attacked again and within minutes was sated by the warm blood and meat of the boar's carcass. Once fed, he sniffed along the ground, gradually making his way back toward the massive wall of ice. Along the main trail once again, Ghost felt something rustle within him. The direwolf snarled silently, then shuddered.   
His eyes were not his own. His desires were not his own. They belonged to someone else, and yet were of his making. The man, not a master but something the men might call a friend, or something else nothing had a name for, inhabited him. Ghost smelled the room he was in, the fire and the hearth, the furs and the fabrics, the woman and sex. Those smells had become familiar as any to Ghost in recent times. The woman had smelled different when he was a puppy, and he had loved her scent even then. Now, he often craved it, needed it as the man did, though in a different way. The man was his, his friend, his caretaker, the woman was kindred to both. A bond Ghost neither understood nor cared to existed between them. Had she her own wolf, Ghost knew he would have mounted her as much as his man had taken the woman, perhaps more. The loyalty beneath the desire, however, drove both man and wolf to her side again and again.   
Yet the man's thoughts were not on her now. What little Ghost had gleaned of human thought he found confusing and mostly unnecessary. Food, sleep, comfort in rest, connection to the most loyal, sex -- these he understood in his own way and knew were important to man and beast alike. Hunting was needed, too, though man did not always see it that way. His man, the one inside him now, fought that impulse and yet it ran through him almost as strong as it did in Ghost. One day he might see it, but for now the man directed them back toward the Wall. Ghost went, as he intended to anyway, and while the man was within him, seeing with his eyes and scenting with his senses, Ghost felt their minds seeking answers from one another, but the questions were too nebulous to give coherent answers. Yet one fact they agreed upon: protect the woman, no matter how or when. If she was in danger, they would get her out of it, together.   
The man smelled something through Ghost. More men. The wild ones from above the wall. Draped in animal skins did nothing to hide their humanity from Ghost. He wanted to return to the warmth of the room with the woman, to lay beside her as the man did and feel her fingers in his fur. Yet the man pressed back at him.   
"Soon," and internal voice whispered to him. "We won't leave you. Look to these men. See what they're doing."  
The direwolf huffed, almost snarled, but the man pressed him on and so he obeyed. Easing along the trail, ready to dart into the shadows if needed, he moved along until the scent almost overwhelmed him. He slipped off the trail into the woods to come alongside a handful of the humans moving in the dark. He crept closer, staying hidden, and followed to hear their words.


	29. CHapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems forever since I posted, though this story never leaves my mind for long. But the planning, the plotting out when you know where things will end up but not how they get there...   
> And life, you know. Life happens.   
> Thanks to anyone still reading. There is more to come, hopefully soon.

Aurelia watched Jon, concerned any sudden movement or noise might disturb his connection. She heard noise in the yard. “Tormund, no,” she whispered. She slipped from the bed, quickly pulling on a dress and wrapping herself in a heavy cloak. She cast Jon a glance before going outside.   
Tormund stood with a group of wildlings around him. Though he wasn’t shouting, being Tormund he wasn’t quiet about his proclamations either. As Aurelia came nearer, he turned his attention on her.   
“And you, girl. What do you think of this mess?”  
“To which mess are you referring?”  
“The crows owe us a debt. We remain here to see it paid, but our patience with this place wears thin. I long for a warm fire with the Wall separating me from what lies beyond.”  
“I cannot speak for the Watch, Tormund, nor would I presume to. But do you think once you cross over away from the Wall all your troubles will be over? How many times did you scale that Wall? You think it will keep the walkers and their masters out forever? Even for your lifetime?”  
“Yet you plan to leave this place. And will you run south to the land of kings to protect yourself?”  
“Why, do you want to run with me?”   
Tormund grinned. He strode toward her, staring her down as his smile faded. “Whatever you have planned, girl, you need more than the boy and his wolf to help you. And they aren’t yours to command.”  
“They’re not yours either. Nor are they the Watch’s.”  
His voice lowered so only she could hear. "What are you planning, you and the boy?"  
"You're not a bad man, Tormund," she replied. "But right now the only person I trust to know my true intent is Jon."  
He continued staring at her for a brief moment, eyes flashing with several emotions. Just before he spoke, he seemed to settle on one in particular. "You're a smart girl. Maybe too smart. The crows owe my men a debt, but paid or not, we'll not linger here much longer. You and the boy have an idea of where we should go, where you might like us to go, you let me know before you go yourself, hmm?"  
"I will." She raised herself up and kissed his ginger cheek. "And thank you." She glanced back toward her room. "I shouldn't leave him alone for long."  
"You can't protect him from himself forever." Tormund's tone was almost sad, and with a depth of knowledge that stung Aurelia.  
"I know. Someday-- Ghost?"  
The direwolf sprinted through the courtyard toward Aurelia's room. He did not look to her when she called but kept running to the door. Aurelia ran after him. When she reached the door, Ghost was pawing at it. She moved a hand to her hip before remembering she had dressed in haste without taking any weapon. She steeled herself, then opened the door. Jon sat up in bed. Ghost bounded to him, and hopped on the bed, turning several times as he licked blood from his chops before settling next to Jon.   
"He's had an adventure," Jon smiled as he patted the direwolf's neck.  
"Has he now?"  
"Well, we have."  
Aurelia closed the door, glancing for some unforeseen danger before returning her gaze to the bed. "I thought-- Did you have him run back like that?"  
Jon nodded. "I heard you, but was trying to keep control until he reached the door. Sorry if it startled you."  
Aurelia removed her cloak and approached them. She reached for Ghost, scratching behind his ears. "What am I going to do with you two, hmm?"  
"Love us," Jon smiled.  
Aurelia shook her head, then crawled up on the bed. She went to put Ghost between her and Jon, but he clasped her hand with a knowing smile. She scooted around the direwolf and Jon pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her once, soft and sweet.   
"The wildlings are scattering from the Gift. They don't know the terrain as well as they think, though they are equipped for the weather. At least for now. They're scared. More scared than before."  
"They don't have a leader now."  
"They'll be at one another's throats soon."  
"You're planning," she replied, running her fingers through his hair before folding her hands behind his head. Aurelia dropped her gaze. "Tormund offered help. Well, inasmuch as he would ever make such an offer, I think."  
"You think he would join us if we asked?"  
"If you asked. If you tell him enough..." She drifted off. "Stannis is not going to be pleased with any of this."  
Jon shifted her from his lap. "That concerns you?"  
"It should concern us both." She sighed, running her hand along Ghost's side. "Making Stannis our enemy is not going to help anyone. If the wildlings give allegiance to us, even a tenuous one..." Aurelia shook her head.  
"I'll speak with Tormund. And her. She holds sway with Stannis still. Perhaps if we have her blessing--"  
"Jon, you know what will happen if we tell her our plans."  
"I don't plan on divulging everything. Not in the least. I'll lie if I must. The truth that matters is we are not against Stannis, and we are for Winterfell and a united North, not to rule but to unite and hold strong for whatever winter will bring. In that much, I hope, she will see our goals align with Stannis. Regardless of the outcome of these conversations--"  
"We lose time the longer we delay. The Boltons will not wait for me for long."  
Jon clenched his jaw at the mention of their name and Aurelia lifted her hand to run her fingers along it. "I hate this. I do. But to see justice done, for your house, for Robb and every Northman who fought with him and was betrayed-- Jon, we owe it to them to try. If the North is not united soon--"  
"I know." He nodded and she slid her hand around his shoulder. "I know," he said again, more firmly.   
He looked to her, his face inscrutable.   
"Jon," she tried, hoping to get a read on his demeanor.  
A second of silence passed. He took her other hand in his and held it to his chest. "I will fight for you, for us, with my last breath. For my family, for Winterfell and the North, yes. I want-- I want to save it all. But without you..."  
She kissed him, slow, lingering, deliberately guiding them so Jon positioned himself atop her as they lay on the bed. "I trust you to do all that and more, my love. Trust me to play my part. I know the risk in this. I know it could mean my life, but what we have to gain is worth the danger. The marriage is priority. It has to be. But if it looks to fail, if the danger overwhelms and that plan crumbles, we must be prepared for a fight. It must be swift and brutal, uncompromising in our vengeance. Yet I don't want that to be our legacy."  
Jon tucked a section of her hair. "The Watch has been fighting wildlings and more for centuries. Since arriving here my life has been little other than violence. And then you... we..." He sighed. "If it comes to a choice between you and-- there is no choice. It is always you."  
"As it is you for me, Jon. It always will be."  
She pulled him closer, her embrace pressing her chest against his. Her heartbeat pounded against him and he felt her begin to tremble. He pulled back to look at her.   
Tears had pooled in her eyes, and yet they shone bright with affection. "Speak with Tormund, and Melisandre. Whoever you think will help us. But we musn't linger much longer."


	30. Chapter 30

"If you keep doing that you'll run into a tree."

"Doing what?"

"You know perfectly well what."

Jon smiled as they rode alongside one another. The road had been narrow in many places, with snows drifting to their heads or higher, and yet the Kingsroad remained passable and so far clear of any other travelers of note. Just beyond Last Hearth they came across a few members of the Umber's household chopping down a tree, but otherwise their journey was quiet. 

"Soon," he said as his smile faded, "it's going to be too long a time before I'm able to appreciate that face again."

"It's not exactly at its best right now." Currently, most of Aurelia's face was covered by thick wool; puffs of breath expelled from it when she spoke. 

"You're always beautiful to me," Jon remarked, his own voice slightly muffled by his scarf pulled high. 

She looked to him and rolled her eyes, but he knew beneath those layers of wool she blushed, and not from cold. "You're strange."

Jon shrugged and her eyes brightened with a smile. They rode in silence for a bit. Reaching a section where the path narrowed again while the snow drift height came down to their horses' flanks, Ghost darted past them off in the woods. 

"He seems happy."

"We're in his world now. Direwolves were meant for winter."

"What did he get up to while you were with the Wildlings?"

"I don't know, really."

"Could you feel him?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I dreamed of him. I wonder..." His voice faded and Aurelia looked to him. They rode very close, any narrower and the path would force them to ride single file, though for now it held its width. 

"Wonder what?"

"You said Robb-- that he and Greywind-- I wonder if any of the others could."

They continued in silence for a moment longer. 

"All of you were close to your pups."

"You think that's all it takes? A bloodline?"

"You were the one who believed those wolves were meant to be found, to be raised with each of you. And the connection between you and Ghost, between Robb and Greywind, it-- even when Bran was abed, Summer was always by his side, saved his life. I don't know if this is your way of asking if Arya and Nymeria will ever come together, or ever find us again, but I hope they do. I hope for that very much."

Jon sighed and began to reply when Ghost darted in front of the horses. They jerked to a stop, tails flicking anxiously. 

"What is it?" Jon asked, smoothing a hand along his horse's neck as Ghost rounded to face them. The direwolf's fur bristled on the back of his neck. Aurelia and Jon looked at one another. Aurelia nodded. He handed her the reigns of his horse. He sat upright in the saddle, then folded forward as his eyes went milk white. Ghost huffed and danced on his paws as though he wanted to dart off, but stopped. He looked up at Aurelia, pawed the ground three times, then took off. 

It was their signal now, Jon's acknowledgment to Aurelia that he was in control, or at least sharing control. She sat there, trying not to think of the cold attacking her. When they were moving she could ignore it some. Progress was being made. But standing still, unless it was making camp for the night, unnerved her. She wasn't sure how well she could whistle the practiced warning to call Ghost-Jon back if trouble came with the cold trying to drive the air and moisture from her. At least it had been dry so far, no new snow to threaten to bury them before they reached the division point. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be gone, and for a days she would be without him. If he never made it to Winterfell, or was caught before entering the labyrinth of crypts-- she looked at his limp form and shook her head. 

_ You cannot fear that _ , she chided herself.  _ What will be will be. He did not come back from the dead only to fall at the gate to his freedom. He will live. We will live. And we will serve justice for the fallen and the lost. _

A moment later, Ghost came trotting back. Aurelia kept her gaze on Jon whose eyes cleared. He gave her hand a squeeze and she returned it. 

"Tormund managed to get ahead of us. It's only him and two others. They were scouting the forests for places to camp."

"Did they find any?"

"We'll find out soon enough. They're coming back this way."

Aurelia and Jon continued forward and within minutes they heard the approaching wildlings. Yet their approach, had it meant to be an attack, would have been a stealthy one as neither Aurelia or Jon had heard the snowshoes of the experienced men approach. It was Ghost who gave them away, pausing and sniffing the air with several huffs before the men came around a bend in the road. Tormund beamed when he saw the pair. The other two were older than he, more grizzled, smaller, but clearly familiar with winter and its terrain. All walked just off the road Amelia and Jon were on, keeping close to the trees. 

"Another few hours and we would have beat you to your castle," Tormund said as the men reached Aurelia and Jon.

"I doubt you'd get a warm welcome. Unless you find warmth in wearing your skin in reverse.”

"That I could do without. And yet you risk it, my girl."

"We could swap if you like. Though I'm not sure you'd be the type of bride the Boltons would approve of."

"That lad does any harm to you, and I'll stick an axe in his face. His father, too."

"Let us hope it does not come to that."

"Are your people in place?" Jon shifted in his saddle. He deplored any talk of the Boltons and what awaited Aurelia. 

"Aye, we'll be only a couple hours out from ye until the signal, then we'll move to the edge of your Wolfwood until you come."

Jon nodded. "Good."

"The men are restless for a fight."

"They'll get one," Jon assured. "So long as you can keep them at bay until the signal is given. Two weeks in the woods--"

"Is better than any day beyond The Wall. They will do as commanded. They respect me, they respect you, and they've heard enough about these Boltons to want them gone. Stannis may be a cold leader, but a leader he is and he done a right by us. Our promise is worth more than any name scribbled on your fancy parchments."

"Thank you, Tormund. All of you." Aurelia nodded her sincerity. 

"If you two sweethearts will excuse us, we should get back to our camp. Two, three days and there will be more snow." He nodded to Jon. "Hope you're prepared for that."

"I’ll be quite able to withstand the snow," Jon replied. "Until next time." He held his free hand to Tormund (the other hand had not left Aurelia's since he came back from warging). Tormund stepped forward, gave it a firm shake. He then gave them both a clap on their thighs, and left with a hearty 'har!' which echoed through the woods. Ghost huffed, and the men moved off into the woods behind Jon and Aurelia. The pair exchanged a look, then nudged their mounts forward. 

"Two weeks," Aurelia said once they had moved along the road a bit. "Will he really be able to control them that long?"

"He knows what awaits them if they attempt to take Winterfell before we've done our part. They'd be slaughtered. Tormund won't risk it, and any man who has hope of outliving this winter won't either."

Aurelia sighed, a large puff of steam escaping her scarf. 

"This was your plan," he said, trying to sound encouraging.

"The wildling bit wasn't."

"We need more than the Northern lords. Whatever oaths they gave you--"

"I know. Words are wind. They've all lost so much and may not be willing to risk more when the moment comes. I have faith in them still, but I understand why you struck the deal with Tormund. And Winterfell could use strong men to rebuild and defend it this winter. It is only..."

"What?"

Aurelia glanced to him. He saw the concern in her eyes and it made his chest ache. She worried for Winterfell, yes, but the apprehension in her look was clearly for him. She turned back to the path.

"The wildlings will help us. The northern lords have promised the same. They have promised to work for us. They have not promised to work with each other. Should a rift occur like the one between--"

"It won't. There is too much at stake. The Watch has been fighting wildlings for hundreds of years. Most of the northern lords know the hill tribes. Even the occasional wildling crossing their lands is not an unfamiliar sight. They may dislike one another, but the same animosity is not there. And Selyse's men were spoiled fools."

"So are the Freys," Amelia said with a tinge of ice in her tone.

"Fools without protection. Once Roose and Ramsay are handled, the Freys will have no support."

"Jon-- "

"Did you hear from Maege Mormont?"

There was a pause before her response. He was diverting her and she knew it. The question hanging in the pause was whether she'd allow it.

"I did. She is to arrive the day after us. Me."

"Good. You know I am as concerned for your safety as you are for mine." His tone caught her off guard. She anticipated chiding, or a lecture as she had nearly given him. Yet all that came from his voice was sincerity.

Aurelia slowed her mount and Jon came alongside her on his. Tears glistened in her eyes, but they were smiling. They held one another's gaze for a moment before their horses became tired of the unneeded pause in the cold and continued forward. 

They made camp that evening off the path in a small thicket where the horses could be tied with some shelter. The fire was small, but they also had the benefit of some cover from the trees and the lean-to that had been fashioned for them at the meeting place with the wildlings in the Gift. They ate salt pork and stale bread with their last handfuls of dried blueberries, staying in their travel clothes for warmth (and readiness to flee if needed). Per the wildling scouts, they should still be at a safe distance from Bolton's watches which mainly kept to within sight of Winterfell, as well as any of Stannis's scouts looking for an access point to the holdfast. Still, neither wanted to risk getting closer or lighting a bright fire. Aurelia's arrival was expected, but Jon was reported dead and needed to stay that way for now.

Once they finished their meal, Jon put an arm around Aurelia. She scooted close to him, laying her head against his chest. They watched the fire for a time, with few words spoken. When he made the move to take her one more time, she complied with a fervor that drove his own. Each muffled their cries of release against the other and in the aftermath, once clothing had been reassembled, Jon slid a hand beneath Aurelia's heavy cloak and lay it on her breast, over her heart. 

A sort of half-sleep fell over them both, and in time Ghost slipped to their little camp, panting with exertion over a fresh kill. He sniffed near the horses, then came to curl up beside the fire at the feet of his human companions. 

"This is what I fight for," Jon murmured.

Aurelia hummed a question back at him. 

"You and I together. Ghost at our feet. In a home, in our home. Whatever battles await us, against lords or white walkers or worse, this is what it is for. You are what it is for."

Aurelia shifted her head to look up at him. "As are you, my love," she smiled. "For all the nights that will be."

Jon smiled, kissing the cold tip of her nose, then her cheek, then her lips. They rubbed their noses together. Aurelia turned her head back toward the fire. Jon pulled up her scarf, then did the same with his own. For a time they spoke more, soft words of adoration mingled with final assertions of their plans until both drifted into a light sleep. 

Waking at dawn, they cleaned up the camp and ate a meager breakfast of fish paste spread on the last of their bread while Ghost trotted off in search of his own meal. Jon fed the horses and gave them a bucket of water from melted snow that had been near the fire. They spoke little, but looks were exchanged that said more than words ever could. Once back on the path, Ghost joined them. 

When it was time for them to split, Ghost whined until Aurelia had scratched his ears and kissed his nose three times. Jon's final words to her almost brought on a flood of tears, but they resisted them. Aurelia kissed him, long and passionate, then one final lingering press of her lips against his and she was gone. She did not look back, and once she was out of his sight, Jon turned his horse, called for Ghost, and moved toward his own path, back to the wildlings through the Wolfwood to gather his supplies. In three days he would be in the crypts to wait for Aurelia's signal. Three days she would be alone among the Boltons and Freys and he could do nothing but proceed with their plan. He prayed to any god that might listen that she would be alright, that should anything go amiss it happened while he was there to save her, that should, after all this time and everything they had gone through to get to this moment, she be taken from him, that he be granted the strength to end every Bolton and Frey and anyone else who led to her downfall before joining her in whatever hereafter there might be. For one thing he knew for certain: their fates were now tied, permanently, and when one died, the other would soon follow. 


	31. Chapter 31

The chill of the air, brought on by fresh evening snow, was not felt within the chambers where Roose Bolton held his court. Yet Aurelia could not help feel it regardless. She had been welcomed by many, though Roose kept his emotions a mask as he had always done. He remained blank-faced, even docile in announcing to the hall the assassination of the Hand of the King and chaos in King’s Landing. In some ways, Aurelia’s arrival could not have come at a better time. Loathe as some Northern lords may have been to accept continued rule by the Boltons, there was no manner in which they could gain or hope for support from the south now. Only the Freys seemed wary, moreso after she had gone to see Lord Manderly.   
The Lord of White Harbor had survived his ordeal, and Roose had yet to declare punishment. For now, being in a cramped chamber with a mediocre maester seemed punishment enough for the formerly jovial, talkative man. Aurelia’s visit was a shock, as he had not been kept informed of goings on. She kept her visit short, an offer of condolence for all he had lost, and a few whispers to not lose hope. He nearly wept at her parting, barely able to craft sounds as he healed, but Aurelia knew she had another ally.   
Allies were not proving to be the problem. Convincing Roose Bolton she only had a single agenda was. Presently, he paced around the room, calm as ever, his gaze unceasing in its study of her.  
“As discussed through our correspondence, your terms are agreeable enough, and your position seems clear.”  
“You sound wary still, my lord.” Aurelia tracked Roose, trying to keep herself at ease.   
“I am wary by nature. And it is troubling, the shifting of your alliances.”  
“Come now, father,” Ramsay sighed. “We’re alone. Let’s be out with it.”  
He rose from his chair, striding toward Aurelia.   
“My father killed your first fiance. The snow will kill Stannis if we don’t do it first, and any romantic notions you might have harboured at being rescued by the murderers and thieves of the Night’s Watch, well... I understand perfectly your position and your designs. My father might fear revenge, but all I see is a lady of good breeding with terrible luck and choice in masters. Until now.”  
She gave a small smile to Ramsay. “There you are right, my lord. The only aspect you miss is possibly the one making Lord Roose uneasy.”   
She looked back to Roose. “What you did to Robb Stark was deplorable, but this realm has seen much of that in recent times. My revenge is to see Winterfell restored. To see it again as a beacon of society and justice in the North. For that there is much work to be done, but I believe you have as much invested in the legacy of this seat as I do.”  
Roose considered before replying. “Ramsay, this is your opportunity to speak out. Is this what you desire?”  
“You didn’t ask me last time,” he scoffed.  
“I am asking you now,” Roose said. Aurelia nearly shuddered, remembering the quiet voice from Robb’s tent and on the field. Her gaze returned to Ramsay, placid, yielding. He smiled at her again, a flash of perverse joy as his eyes ran over her form.  
“Lady Aurelia,” Ramsay said, stepping to her, taking her hand. “I would be honored if you would be my wife and together we will restore Winterfell to the glory it deserves.”  
She gave a small curtsey. “I am happy to accept.”  
The plans for their wedding progressed quickly since they were no longer bound to request permission from King’s Landing. A raven was sent, nonetheless, but even Roose did not appear to desire to wait for any response. Aurelia was permitted to send ravens on behalf of House Bolton to some of the Houses who had not had representation at the last wedding, House Mormont chief among them. She included within her note the support of her new bodyguard, Maege, in all things. She hoped the young Lyanna and her councillors would divine the message within those words.  
Maege was more a blessing than Aurelia anticipated. She became confidant and guard, though they rarely spoke more than a few sentences a day to one another. Maege had assured her of Jon’s security and kept an eye on the Bolton watches. Aurelia had secured Maege’s loyalty in service to Robb and she vowed to reward that loyalty when the time came. Maege brushed it off, yet Aurelia knew even through the woman’s gruff exterior that she appreciated the gesture, and would hold Aurelia to it.   
The Umbers were first to offer their congratulations in audience, followed by Maege, the remaining Glovers and Karstarks, and finally the Freys. Yet there was one guest for the wedding Aurelia prayed to arrive night and day. She was praying four days prior to her nuptials when Ramsay strode into her chamber.  
As Ramsay entered, nausea overtook her. He tested her limits of patience and self-discipline like nothing she’d experienced before.   
She stilled her mind as Ramsay approached her. His smile, cold and devious, hiding little.   
“Hello, beloved,” he said, as though reciting poetry without caring to comprehend the words, just knowing it needed saying.   
She stood and moved to him, dutiful. She then raised herself up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “How are you this evening?”   
The mask had not slipped in his presence yet, and she would be damned if something like her own inability to put aside her personal rage and disgust derailed their plans.  
Ramsay wrapped an arm around her waist. “I will be in better spirits when we can dispense with the small talk upon my arrival in our chambers each night.”  
At the mention of ‘our chambers,’ Aurelia felt her nostrils flare.  
“Something wrong?” He asked.  
“No, just thinking of the wedding. The whole concept makes me a bit uneasy. The ceremony of it…”  
“It will end better than the last wedding you were to be a part of, I can promise you that,” he grinned. “My father will see to it that everything is properly placed for a calm, and quick ceremony,” he continued before Aurelia could respond. He shrugged out of the embrace and took off his cloak, tossing it on a large wooden chair. “What is it you wished to speak to me about?”  
“Who will represent my father.”  
Ramsay paused. “You have someone in mind, other than my father?”  
“I know he is Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, but the idea of a symbolic father giving me away to wive his son, rather makes it a bit--”  
“Incestuous. I’m not actually keen on the idea myself.”  
“So you agree?”  
“My father is a poor choice, particularly to send a message of unifying more than one family. Your father is dead. Your former claimed king is dead. Who do you think it should be?”  
“The options aren’t many.”  
Ramsay studied her. “Your practicality at times is almost maddening.”  
She smiled. “So I’ve been told.”  
His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth as though to speak, then seemed to think better of it. He turned toward his clothes and began stripping. “Well, the plainer you speak the more I like you. Who do you have in mind?”  
“Lord Reed.”  
Ramsay laughed. “The green ghost of moss land? You think you can find him, much less have him agree to it? He was Ned Stark’s most loyal lord.”  
“All the more reason to bring him into the fold. The Starks may be gone, but the legacy of Winterfell should be rebuilt to its strength again.”  
Ramsay pulled on a fresh pair of trousers and turned back to her as he began to lace them up. “You’ve already asked, haven’t you?”  
“I asked him to the wedding. Nothing more as of yet.”  
“Did you now?”  
“You can check with the raven master if you like.” Ramsay had pulled on a shirt and vest. Aurelia stepped forward and began lacing the vest. “My practicality which seems to vex and intrigue you in equal measure occasionally acts of its own accord. If I’ve overstepped--”  
“You wouldn’t sincerely apologize for it anyway, so don’t try.”  
His gaze once again sought to find something within her. Whatever he searched for Aurelia only hope she was giving him what he wanted to see. Above all, she hoped he didn’t see the many truths she kept having to bury while in his presence. Among them being the hidden message within her request to Lord Reed.  
“Has he replied?”  
“He accepted the invitation, yes.”  
“And if he doesn’t want to give you away?”  
“One of the Umbers should suffice.” Ramsay rolled his eyes. “Left with the choice of Umber, Karstark or Frey, I choose Umber.”  
She tried to keep the commanding tone from her voice but heard it slip into her words before she could hold it in check. Ramsay’s expression shifted for a second before he grinned.   
“Completely understandable. Reed or Umber it is.” He took his jacket off the edge of the bed and pulled it on after Aurelia had finished lacing the vest. “Now, I must see to some of my father’s business. I’ll see you at supper. Wear something pretty, will you. Something that shows off those curves of yours so I can gain some enjoyment out of this whole waiting process.”  
He kissed her cheek and left before her reply of, “I will,” had entirely left her lips.  
Once his footsteps had faded away, Aurelia took a deep breath and shuddered. Each day she reminded herself that the day of reckoning moved ever closer, and each day it made her more sick to contemplate how that reckoning was to come about. Harder still was to stay out of the crypts, to stave off the temptation to seek solace with him. She wasn’t watched constantly, but Roose and Ramsay both had spies on her and she could not, would not, risk all she had put at stake for her own weak desires.   
“Soon,” was all she could mutter to comfort herself before going to seek out the dressmaker for final alterations to her wedding gown.


	32. Chapter 32

The darkness consumed him. Day and night blended together, all passed in darkness. It had been a week since his arrival, since Maege Mormont brought the one ray of hope and a handful of candles, parchment and charcoal. Not having Aurelia or Ghost near him made Jon's hours pass interminably. The first few days he ran through fighting maneuvers and counted pushups. Then, he stopped counting. He slept when he tired, and ran plans in his mind when he did not. He scribbled, he wrote, he burned letters to his family written in memorial. He practiced with his dagger over and over and over. He forced himself not to worry for Aurelia. He felt certain that if some terrible ill befell her, he would know it. Somehow, in his bones, in every inch of him, he would know. Unless that feeling came, he could do no more than wait. And practice. And pray.  
He thought he had lost the Old Gods somewhere in his trials the past couple years, yet in the dark of the maze of crypts, among dozens of his dead ancestors, something willed him back, to the legends of days past, to the hope of better days ahead. Jon knew it was his nature to be a bit sullen, and stubborn, and yet here in this place he once called home, and hoped to again, knowing Aurelia was near even though he could not see her, he felt as though generations of Starks, and the faces of the Old Gods, kept watch on them. And like him, they waited.


End file.
